Snowflakes and Icicles
by Muffy Morrigan
Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Sam might get something for Christmas that he never wished for. Hurt Dean.
1. Drifting Flakes

_A/N: I know I haven't been writing much, this year has been a little rough, but things are getting better and exciting things are coming up. And this (well these) are some gifts for you, in the tradition of those little calendars we all love so much, I give you the Muffy version of an Advent Calendar. Hurt Dean, hurt Sam, Hurt Winchesters, Hurt Emrys. One story a day, until Christmas, and who knows I might be inspired to do a twelve days after by then! There will be four very short stories, some longer one shots and yes I will get chapters of Gifts and Bad Day up as well this festive season. _

_A/N II So here is the first, a little hurt!Dean. _

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter One**

**Drifting Flakes**

The snow drifted down lazily, the flakes catching in the branches, whispering softly on the way down. Dean tracked a particularly large flake as it fell, fluttering in the breeze, dropping almost like a living thing from the sky. It turned gracefully as it came down, closer and closer, until it finally landed on his face. It stayed where it was, he was far too cold for it to melt, so the giant flake sat on his nose, mocking him.

He focused on it, wondering if he could make it melt with the power of his glare. Sammy always said he could melt metal when he really got going, but Dean was beginning to think that was just little brother rhetoric. _Ha, Sammy, see? I use big words. _He wished the delirium was fever, if it was a fever he might survive. This was so much worse.

He'd been tossed into a nearly frozen river by a seriously annoyed wendigo. He'd tried to fight, but the current had tugged him downstream. Dean could still hear his brother screaming his name as the water closed over his head. Sometime later he'd hit a rock—or something solid at least—and managed to pull his numb body up onto it, rolling off it and onto the shore.

_And here I am, watching it snow. Let Sammy be okay._

Someday there would be a hunt that was easy, that didn't go wrong. He sighed. It wasn't going to matter soon, the cold was gone, he was starting to slip towards unconsciousness. And that was bad. The bad kind of bad that you didn't come back from. Fine Christmas present for Sam. _And this year, you get a Deansicle under the tree. _Didn't seem fair to his brother.

_Oh god, let Sammy be okay._

His eyes closed.

"Sorry, Sammy," he whispered, lips numb in the cold.

"Dean!" Rough hands grabbed him. He was suddenly hauled up against something warm. "Dean!"

"Sam?"

"Dean, oh god, you're cold." The warmth tightened around him. "Just hang on."

_To Be Continued_


	2. Frozen Rivers and Lost Brothers

_A/N: Advent Day Two. I thought we might need to know what was happening with Sam. But have no worries, it's the holiday season, so I wouldn't do anything mean like leave you with a cliffie._

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Two**

**Frozen Rivers and Lost Brothers**

The forest was silent, the muted silence that only came with snow, the only sound the soft whisper of the flakes as they fell and the rumble of the frozen river. It was odd, just how different the river sounded, the water rushing under the broken ice. Of course, the ice hadn't been badly broken until Dean had been slammed into it by the wendigo they were hunting. The creature had disappeared after the attack, Sam really didn't have time to worry why, he was focused on following the body that was rapidly slipping down the river.

"Dean!" he shouted, hoping to get a reaction, even just a hand above the water, anything to indicate Dean was still alive. "Dean!"

Still nothing.

The river was tugging Dean along an erratic path, occasionally bouncing him off boulders, then slamming him into a piece of jagged ice. It was the ice that was guiding Dean's journey, his body moving through the unfrozen parts of the river. Sam watched in horror as the channel moved to the far side of the river and his brother disappeared completely from sight.

His focus was so taken up by the chase he failed to see what was in front of him and ran, full force, into a snow-covered rock. It was enough to stun him, he staggered back and stared stupidly at the huge piece of granite in front of him. _Glacial erratic. _His brain dredged up the name from a geology class he took at Stanford. _Dean's going to kill me for not looking where I was going. _

_Oh, god, DEAN! _

Sam shook his head and started around the boulder, it was bigger than he thought and he ended up further away from the river than he would have liked when he finally made it around the stone. He ran back to the water. Glancing up the river he tried to get an idea of how far downstream he'd come as he worked his way past the boulder. It was a big rock. The channel he'd been watching had snaked to the far side of the river, then back towards him.

Still there was nothing, no sight of Dean.

The urge to just keep running along the water was so strong it took everything to fight it, but Dean's voice, calm and cool in his head, told him to stop and take a breath, assess the situation and _then_ panic. Sam smiled. His brother always added the "and then panic". Winchester survival rule number twelve, keep the panic calm. He scanned the river, calmly panicking when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Something was crawling onto the bank on the other side of the river.

_Great, Dean, other side. Good planning. _

Sam tested the ice with his foot, carefully sliding onto the surface, hearing it crack, but he kept on, if he could get close enough without getting too wet, he would be better off, more to the point, staying dry would help Dean. Another step, the ice was splintering. He could see the water gurgling around a rock, just under the surface, so he carefully placed his foot there, the ice gave way and frigid water wrapped around his ankle.

He looked up at Dean, his brother had rolled onto his back, eyes open staring glassily at the drifting snow. Sam's stomach gave a painful lurch. _No, please. _He took another faltering step, this time his foot going all the way to the bottom of the river. Before he could slip in the current, he just forged ahead until he reached a boulder jutting out into the river. Dragging himself up onto the rock and inching towards the shore, not wanting to risk a fall into the water, he finally dropped onto the shore and ran for his brother.

"Dean!" He slammed to his knees and grabbed Dean, pulling his brother up into a hug. "Dean!"

"Sam?" Dean mumbled, his voice thick.

"Dean, oh god, you're cold." Sam let go of Dean long enough to slip an arm out of his jacket, pull Dean back against him and wrap his arm—and the jacket—around his brother. "Just hang on."

"Cold."

"Yeah, I said that."

"You okay?"

Sam huffed. "Yeah." He pulled Dean closer, knowing he had to get him warm, but not too fast.

"Need a tauntaun," Dean said, his teeth chattering.

"I'll go find one and shove you in it, nothing like smelly guts to get you warm."

"Better than hugging."

"Ha ha." Sam froze.

"What?" Dean picked up on his tension.

"The wendigo," Sam whispered, staring at the creature that was suddenly in front of them.

"Oh, shit."

_To Be Continued_


	3. Confuse a Wendigo

_A/N Advent Day Three. And yes, the chapter title is kind of a Monty Python Reference._

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Three**

**Confuse a Wendigo**

The snow was still falling, drifting around them, the large flakes twisting around the wendigo standing in front of them, sizing them up. Dean sighed. Freezing to death would have been so much easier than becoming a hanging slab of meat.

"Think we'll be cold cuts?" he said, sniggering

"What?" Sam answered, then chuckled. "Thinking out loud again?"

Dean nodded, leaning against Sam. "Sammy."

"Don't even think it," Sam growled.

"You don't know what I was going to say." It was hard to talk, his teeth had started chattering. He was trying to remember if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"I can take a guess."

"You don't know me."

Sam snorted. "If you start singing Weird Al, I'll leave you here."

The wendigo was staring at them, it's head bobbing back and forth like it wasn't sure what was happening. Dean couldn't blame it. Usually its victims were running and screaming by now. It raised it's hands and shrieked.

Dean started shivering. "Cold, Sammy."

"I know."

The wendigo shrieked again.

"Leave me, get safe," Dean said desperately. The shivering was slowing down, he was sure that was a bad sign.

"Oh, bite me, Dean." Sam tightened the coat around him and sighed. The wendigo started towards them and in a single movement Dean would never be sure of, Sam had dropped Dean, and stepped in front of him. The wendigo growled and Sam leveled the super-charged tazer they'd built just for the occasion on the creature. At first it kept coming, but after three steps it collapsed to its knees, then fell to its side as it cooked from the inside out. Sam walked over and kicked it to make sure it was dead. "Should I cut it open and stuff you inside? It's probably warm in there."

"Only tauntauns."

"Snob," Sam said, turning back towards him. "Dean!"

"What?"

"Oh my god!" Sam was beside him, moving the jacket away from his icy skin.

Dean looked down hazily, there was a giant gash on his side, blood was oozing out of the wound, slower than it usually would, which his brain told him was also bad, but that was all that registered. "Huh."

"How did that happen?" Sam's hands were trembling as he examined the wound.

"Wendigo, I guess." Dean grinned at the panic on his brother's face. "Not calm there, Sammy."

"Shut up." Sam pressed his lips together. "Hypothermia first, we will worry about the wound later. The cabin is about a mile from here."

"I'll wait." Dean closed his eyes.

"Not funny." Sam said automatically. He tugged off Dean's wet shirt and jacket and a moment later Dean was being wrapped in something warm and mostly dry. He opened his eyes. It took longer that time and he realized what had happened. "Oh, hell no, Sam."

"What?" Sam slid his arm under Dean's knees.

"You are not giving me your shirt and coat."

"I already did."

"Take them back!"

"No." Sam got an arm around his shoulders and, with a grunt, picked him up.

"Put me down!"

"Make me."

"Sam! I'm serious!"

"Dean," Sam said, his voice going scary soft, like their father's had when he was furious. "You are freezing to death. Literally. I have no idea how bad that wound on your side is. So you are either going to let me carry you back to the cabin, or I am going to cut open that wendigo, stuff you inside and drag you there."

"But Sam," Dean said, as the world started to get fuzzy. He was getting a little warmer, shivering and everything was starting to have dark sparkles at the edges.

"But, Sam what?" Sam huffed.

"I..." Dean closed his eyes and let his head fall against his brother's shoulder. "You, I..."

"Dean?" Sam's voice was suddenly far away. "Dean! Stay with me"

"Sam... I..." He wanted to, and he knew it would be bad to sleep. But the sparkles, like the snowflakes were getting thicker. Suddenly, all the dark sparkles gathered together and became one big, warm dark spot and Dean tumbled in, he heard his brother's panicked shout just as everything went black.

_To Be Continued_


	4. They Have Brothers

_A/N: This chapter was going to go a little differently until the wonderful _**ncis-lady, **_made a little request in her review which I took it as a Christmas wish. So, this chapter is entirely her fault, all complaints should be PMed to her. LOL. Yes, that is a movie quote (if you spot it). _

_A/N II: Advent Day Four, sorry I'm a little late with this one. It's still technically the fourth where I am. _

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Four**

**They Have Brothers**

Sweat was beginning to run down Sam's face and back as he carried his brother through the snow-hushed woods. He was frantically resisting the urge to run. Dean was in bad shape, but if he took off running he could trip and dump Dean into the snow, getting him colder than he already was, or Sam could hurt himself and strand them both in the icy forest to die. It was hard going, Dean was heavy, and getting heavier by the moment, although the occasional mumbled protest let Sam know his brother was still alive and not happy about the situation. As long as Dean was complaining, things were still under control.

A huge dollop of snow dropped off a tree and onto his back, sliding slowly over the skin, making him shiver. He sped up a little, enough to stay warm without risking a fall. He had to get Dean warm and then to the safety of the cabin, and it wasn't far now, it was just up over the hill. Just a little further.

"How far?" Dean asked, his voice muffled.

"Not far now, I can smell smoke."

They'd left the fire banked when they set out that morning for the hunt, planning on being back to the cabin before nightfall. It was more a safeguard against disaster than thinking about a warm meal when they got finished. Lately, everything was harder than it seemed like it should be, and they figured that they should make sure everything was ready in case something went wrong. Sam had laughed at Dean that morning when his brother had carefully set out the surgical kit on the small table by the fire. Now he was glad for that precaution, it would save precious seconds when they got back.

Dean was shivering, his teeth chattering and that was making him hard to carry. Sam contemplated tossing him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. It would make it easier, but his brother wouldn't stay as warm.

"Hold still," Sam snapped as Dean wiggled around.

Sam was also thinking of the backpack they'd cached about half way between the river and the cabin. Sam had taken it off when it looked like they might be going through dense forest, and they had shoved a few items into their pockets and left the pack there. The broken tree where he'd tossed it out of reach of forest animals was in view. Sam sighed in relief when he spotted it still hanging from it's branch.

"I see the pack, Dean."

"Wolf pack?"

"Backpack."

"Oh, that's better than wolves."

Sam reached the tree and set Dean down in the snow-free circle of needles up against the south-side of the trunk. He grabbed the pack and opened it. There was a spare shirt that he quickly pulled on before the sweat on his body started to cool him off too much. Digging further into the bag, he fished out two air-activated heat packs, opened them, stuck them to Dean chest, then wrapped his brother in an emergency blanket.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said, his teeth clacking together.

"Don't thank me yet," Sam replied, still digging in the pack. He pulled out the cup and showed it to Dean.

"What's that?" Dean squinted at it.

"Remember that survival store..."

Dean smiled. "The one that had everything."

"This is one of that huge box of everything you bought." Sam pushed in the button at the bottom of the cup. "Self-heating cocoa."

"I told you it was cool," Dean said, taking the cup and sipping carefully.

"You know it's lye, right?"

"What is?"

"What they use to heat it. It's lye, like drain cleaner you know, you add water and it boils."

"And that's what makes the cocoa hot?"

"Yeah."

"Really cool."

Sam was pulling his out when Dean made a funny sound. He looked up at his brother. "Dean?"

"Bastards have brothers, who seem to ride forever," Dean said.

"What? Dean?" Sam starting to worry about delirium when he heard the snap of a branch behind him.

Dean looked at him. "Bastards and, apparently, wendigos."

_To Be Continued_


	5. Things Just Have to Go Wrong

_A/N Advent Day Five_

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Five**

**Things Just Have to Go Wrong**

The snow was beginning to fall harder, blurring out the landscape in a curtain of white, the dark trees just shadows in the swirling flakes. The snow muted everything, even the approach of the wendigo, until it was too late. Dean looked at his brother. Sam had an almost comical expression of disgust on his face, Dean knew the feeling. _Things just have to go wrong. _

"Wendigo?" Sam asked, not turning around.

"Yep, pretty much."

"So there were two of them?"

"Didn't the reports say it was a pair of trappers?" Dean said.

"They did, I just hoped..."

"That one of them ate the other? You think we'd get that lucky?"

"Not really." Sam dug around in the pack.

"If you pull a grenade launcher out of there I'll be impressed."

"It wouldn't fit." Sam kept digging.

"Flame thrower?"

Sam smiled, his dimples showing. "Will a can of bug repellent and a lighter do?" He stood up and moved between Dean and the oncoming wendigo.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't get up," Sam snapped.

Dean carefully set the hot chocolate down. He was still so cold his movements were clumsy, but he wasn't going to let Sam take on the wendigo by himself. It was easy to track the creature's movement now that it was closer, the snow moved creating a small wake. Sam held the can and the lighter in front of him as he grabbed a stick and started drawing in the pine needles.

"What are you doing?"

"Drawing a zia symbol. Once the tazer recharges we can shoot it from inside here." Sam looked back at him. "Sit down!" he growled. "Damn it, Dean, just sit down!"

Dean slid back down the tree, watching as Sam hurried to complete the design before the wendigo realized what he was doing. His brother was just finishing the last line when the creature caught on and came at them, racing through the snow. "Sam!" Dean was trembling as it got closer, not just from the cold. This was always the scary part, waiting to see if they'd done it right.

"Yeah." Sam backed up, still between Dean and the wendigo.

It rammed into their little ring of protection at full speed. Dark streaks of energy buzzed around them as it tried to hit them again and again, testing the strength of their haven. Sam sat down beside Dean and handed him his cocoa, watching as the creature kept up its attack.

"Do you think it can break through?" Dean asked.

"In theory it can't."

Dean shifted so he was leaning against Sam. Now that he was warming up, he could feel the blood running down his side and pain was beginning to creep into his awareness. He hoped that the dunk in the river had cleaned it out, they'd learned on the last wendigo hunt that wounds caused by the creature's fingernails could become septic very quickly. Dean lifted the cocoa to his lips and it pulled on the wound.

"Dean?" Sam was focused on him. "What is it?" He was pushing Dean's shirt up to get a look at the gash a moment later. "Oh." His brother paled as he turned Dean a little to the side. "Oh."

"Sammy?" Dean knew that look all too well. Things were bad.

The wendigo hit their sanctuary hard, the energy rattling snow off the tree down onto them.

"Sammy?" Dean asked again.

"What?" Sam looked up, his face curled into the full squinch, so tight it had to hurt.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

_To Be Continued_


	6. Holy Flaming Wendigos, Batman

_A/N: Advent Day Six. Sorry I'm late. Eventful day. (It's still technically the sixth day in the Pacific Time Zone. I know I am pushing it.)_

_A/N II: Yes, it does burn, no, do not try it at home. I didn't *whistles innocently*_

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Six**

**Holy Flaming Wendigos, Batman**

The wendigo continued to test the strength of their small haven, and even the snow started to change from flurries into something that was beginning to resemble a blizzard. _Of course. Why would nature help? _Sam was staring at the wound on his brother, wondering if Dean realized the gash was actually a puncture that went straight through. The problem with wendigo wounds—if that's what this was—they went septic very quickly and puncture wounds were never fun in the first place. Sam sighed, wondering how much he should tell Dean. His brother, no doubt, knew it was serious.

"What kind of nothing are we talking about?" Dean asked calmly.

"Huh?"

"The 'it's really nothing' nothing or the 'Sammy running in circles shrieking oh my god, oh my god flapping his arms' nothing?"

"I don't do that."

"You so do."

"Do not."

"Do so."

The wendigo hit the barrier again, this time with enough force that the energy buzz knocked Sam off his feet. He growled at the creature and turned back to Dean. "Do not."

"So bad enough for the squinch, but not bad enough to not argue."

"That made no sense at all." Sam started looking through the pack again, hoping he'd stuck something to pack the wound long enough to get Dean back to the cabin. He glanced at the tazer, it was slowly recharging. Sam didn't think he had time to wait and wondered what else he could do. The bug spray flamethrower was the best bet, he just wasn't sure there was enough to actually torch the creature. Maybe if he got it going he could wound it enough so the tazer could finish it off. He found a package of sterile gauze and hand sanitizer and smiled at Dean.

"Is this going to sting a little?" Dean made a funny face.

"Yeah."

"You always say that."

"I do." Sam grimaced and gently swabbed the gash with the sanitizer then set it aside. After carefully packing the wound with gauze he smiled at Dean. "All done."

"Didn't hurt at all," Dean said, his face gray.

That's when Sam felt the weird puff of air against his leg. Looking down he saw another small puff move the pine needles of the design. His stomach clenched in horror when he realized what was happening. "Shit, Dean, it's..."

"Can they do that?"

"This one is." Sam sighed. He was getting tired of the wendigo, tired of the pine needles and he was almost out of his mind with worry for Dean.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You aren't going to do something stupid are you?"

"What makes you think that?" Sam said, looking around, still trying to think of a plan. His eyes fell on the medical supplies and a lightbulb popped on.

"Oh no."

"What?" Sam snapped as he picked up the hand sanitizer.

"I know that look."

"What look?" Sam said, picking up the bug spray in his other hand.

"The Dean Winchester I am about to do something stupid look."

Sam smiled at his brother. "Nice to know you recognize it."

"So what is the plan?"

"This." Sam walked over to where the wendigo was puffing away, trying to blow away the lines of the zia symbol and squirted the hand sanitizer on its head and shoulders, then before it could react he sprayed the bug spray and lit it up, turning it into a flame thrower. The creature roared in pain. Sam tried to redraw the symbol with his foot as he held the fire on the wendigo.

He was so focused on his task he accidentally stepped outside the protective lines. A flaming hand connected with him and he felt something tug at his ankle at the same time. He was falling, that was all he knew. His last clear sight was the wendigo, covered in blue flame and the snow rushing towards him.

_To Be Continued_


	7. A Cunning Plan

_A/N: Advent Day Seven with five minutes to spare. (PST)_

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Seven**

**A Cunning Plan**

The wendigo was burning, the blue flames fluttering in the wind, the color seeming cold in the falling white that surrounded them. The brighter flame of the bug spray ceased as Sam fell, the blow from the creature knocking him to the side, leaving a small splash of blue flame on his cheek. Dean had shoved himself away from the tree, closing numb fingers around his brother's ankles as soon as he had noticed Sam step outside their circle of protection. As Sam fell, Dean tugged him back towards safety, reaching out with one hand to slap out the small fire on Sam's face.

The wendigo had other ideas. Despite the fact it was on fire, it was moving towards them, grasping Sam's arm in a clawed hand and engaging in a tug of war with Dean. There was no way that was going to happen. Dean looked around desperately for something to give him an edge. His eyes landed on Sam's self-heating beverage. "I've got an idea," he said, hoping his brother would hear. Kicking the cup towards his hands he threw all of his weight into the tug of war and managed to loosen the wendigo's hold long enough to roll Sam back into their circle. He redrew the lines of the zia symbol and grabbed the cup.

"What are you doing?" Sam groaned.

"Saving you," Dean answered as he picked up the cup. The wendigo was still burning its bright blue, but it was starting to puff at the lines of their protective ring again.

Sam rolled over and frowned at him, his left cheek bright red with several blisters. "I was doing okay."

"You stepped over the line."

"I did?" Sam looked confused for a moment. "My face hurts."

"It was on fire," Dean said, keeping his voice calm. He swallowed, his side hurt and his mad grab for Sam had pulled on the wound.

"Oh." Sam blinked, still looking confused. "Your side! God, Dean." He moved quickly and pulled aside the fabric to check the wound before carefully covering it again and wrapping Dean in the emergency blanket. "You have to hold still. It's bad."

"You said it was nothing." Dean smirked. "I knew it was something."

"We have to get back to the cabin."

"Is the tazer charged?"

Sam picked it up. "Not yet. Not enough."

"Do you think it could chase us if its head was melted?"

"Probably not." Sam looked over to where the wendigo was smoldering away.

"Hand sanitizer burns pretty good. It was a good idea, Sammy," Dean said.

"Not enough though."

"I have an idea."

"A good idea?" Sam asked with a smile.

"Maybe?"

"Oh, that kind of idea."

"Says the guy with the bug spray and hand sanitizer." Dean laughed, then clutched his side when it pulled at the wound. "When I get warm that's really going to hurt."

"Yeah." Sam was squinching at him again. He put a steadying hand on Dean. "So what's the idea, Han?"

"Luke was the cold one," Dean said with a smile. "Han did the tauntaun cutting."

"Yeah, Han had the ideas."

"Good point. I was thinking about this." He held up the cup. Dean saw the moment the same idea occurred to his brother. He grinned. "Think it will work?"

"Maybe?"

"Do it and we run."

"I run, you get carried."

"Hell no."

"Then I won't do it."

"Sam."

"Dean."

"Fine. Whatever."

Sam eased Dean into a standing position, leaning him against the tree. Dean wasn't going to let his brother carry him, but he also knew that fighting him about it wasn't going to get them out of there, so he was playing along. After Sam put on the backpack, he picked up the cup and, using his knife and a rock, punched through the bottom, exposing the heating chamber. He quickly stepped to where the wendigo was, and splashed the lye onto the creatures face. The wendigo howled in agony, falling back and clawing at its face as it continued to burn. Sam pulled Dean's arm over his shoulder, lifted him off his feet and ran.

Dean tried to protest, Sam ignored him and just went bounding through the snow. They were almost at the cabin when Dean got a look behind him. "Sam."

"It's back there?"

"Yeah."

"How close?"

"Close." Dean looked up at Sam. Sam set Dean onto his feet. They were close to the cabin with its thousands of protections, but it might as well have been a million miles, the deformed, smoldering wendigo was narrowing the distance between them fast. They weren't going to make it.

_To Be Continued_


	8. It Goes to Eleven

_A/N Advent Day Eight_

_A/N II: A reviewer pointed out that I had mistakenly used tazers against wendigos, when they were used against rawheads (Eps "Wendigo" and "Faith"). I knew this, I just figured that the Winchesters would have souped up something easy to use and would have at one point tried that experiment (DO NOT TRY AT HOME) where you cook a hotdog with two nails and an extension cord. Enough juice and a closed circuit pretty much cook anything organic. I was even going to toss in a comment to that effect, but thought it would be pointing out the obvious and talking down to you all (WHO WOULD NEVER TRY THAT EXPERIMENT EVER EVER). As to the tug of war, the poor wendigo was on fire, and Dean, even when hurt... (sighs happily at the thought)_

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Eight**

**It Goes to Eleven**

The snow whipped around them, Sam moved in front of Dean, blocking him from the wind and the oncoming monster. The wendigo was slowing down, its steps clumsy as it raced forward. Considering the usual, nearly faster-than-sound speed of the creatures, it was enough to give Sam hope. _Maybe, just maybe. _He lifted a hand to keep the snow out of his eyes and got a better look at it. The thing's face was nearly gone, its eyes just smoking holes in its face. "How the hell is it following us?"

"Probably smells the blood," Dean said.

"Stop bleeding."

"I'll just do that." Dean made a sucking sound. "There, happy."

"Very."

"What's it doing?"

"The wind shifted! If it is following our scent..." Sam didn't wait to find out, he grabbed Dean and set out at a dead run for the cabin, reaching the safety of the threshold just as the wind changed direction again. He threw open the door and shoved his brother inside right as the creature caught up to them, ramming into the protective barrier around the house with a solid squishing noise.

"Sorry, no one's home," Dean called out the door.

The wendigo cocked its head and made another run straight towards them, slamming into the invisible barrier with a resounding thunk. Sam let go of the breath he'd been holding since he realized they actually had a chance. He watched it for a moment longer. Its flesh was burnt away, parts of bone showing as it dropped to its knees and started probing along the edge of the cabin.

"What's it doing?" his brother asked.

"Still trying to get us."

"I told you we should have brought grenades."

"Well that's a relief." Sam closed the door and gently lifted his brother onto his feet, helping him to the cot by the fireplace.

"What's that?"

"At least you've stopped quoting chick flicks."

"I never."

"You thought I didn't know, didn't you?

"Know what?"

"That quote."

"There is no quote."

"There is no spoon."

"Good job, Sammy," Dean beamed at him. "Damn that hurts," he hissed as Sam eased his shirt over his head.

"Yeah."

"How bad is it?"

Sam looked at the wound carefully. It was worse than he thought, far worse. The slash was already red and puffy at the edges, the wendigo claw passing on infection faster than an injection. He chewed on his bottom lip as he considered his options. There was no leaving, not yet with the wendigo sniffing around the cabin. It couldn't get in, the various protections were literally built into the cabin, so they were safe and there was an ample supply of firewood and coal for several days, but he would have to get Dean out and to medical care soon. The sun was almost down, they had to wait out the night no matter what.

"Well, how bad is it?" Dean poked him with his foot. "On a scale of one to eleven."

Sam laughed. "It could be worse."

"I still have both legs."

"Yes."

"And both arms."

"Yes."

"See, Sammy, nothing to worry about."

"Dean," Sam huffed, caught between a frown and a reluctant smile. His brother was trying to calm him down in a desperate situation, they both knew it, and panicking wouldn't get either of them very far. _Funny, that doesn't stop the panic. _He took a deep breath and let it out. "On a scale..."

Something thumped against the house.

"What was that?"

Sam looked out the window, trying to see through the gathering shadows and the shatterproof glass of the tiny window. "It's throwing rocks, I think."

"Great." Dean groaned. "Eleven."

Sam looked over at him. "Yeah." He dragged the table over towards the bed.

"A Winchester Eleven?"

"Yeah, Dean, pretty much."

"So, I'm screwed."

_To Be Continued_


	9. Sorta, Mostly, Not

_A/N: Advent Day Nine. You didn't think I would just..._

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Nine**

**Sorta, Mostly, Not**

The fire crackled as another rock thumped against the side of the house. Dean sighed. Why wouldn't the stupid wendigo just give up. It wasn't getting in, it couldn't break the glass. In fact, it probably couldn't even see the cabin considering the holes the lye had burned in its face. He was starting to really warm up, the icy cold leaving his extremities making him shiver. Sam frowned, Dean could see the wheels turning as Sam tried to decide if he should let Dean warm all the way up before he treated the wound or if he should handle it now. _Huh, what would I do? The claws are septic so the wound would get bad fast, and hypothermia would actually increase the... _He snapped back to attention when something stung against his side. "Shit!"

"Sorry, Dean, I was trying to clean the wound."

Dean opened his eyes and stared at Sam, wondering when he'd closed them. "Good choice."

"I'm glad you approve."

"I do."

"Thanks." Sam reached for something on the table and went back to work on Dean's side.

"That hurts."

"I know it does, think about something else."

"You're just saying that because that's what I always say," Dean said, trying to smile.

"It works."

"Liar," Dean groaned as Sam hit a particularly painful spot. Sam frowned, but kept going. "How can you think about something else?"

"I think that's what I always say."

"You're right."

"What?" Sam stopped and looked at him in shock.

"You're right. It doesn't help. What's the look for?"

"What look?" Sam got up and put some wood on the fire.

Dean tried to ease himself up on an elbow, pain seared across his ribs, he dropped back to the bed. "The look and now the doing stuff stuff."

Sam huffed out a breath and swung the pot into the fire. "I'm heating water."

"I'm not having a baby." Dean waited. Sam stared into the fire. "Okay, so am I dead? Mostly dead? Sorta dead? Not dead yet?"

"Is that your personal idiom?" Sam turned back to him, his face bleak.

"Good boy, Sammy," Dean grinned. "When the fever sets in, it'll get rid of the hypothermia, you can be glad of that."

"When I kill you it won't matter," Sam growled. "Sorry." He came back over and sat on the edge of the bed. "It's just worse than I thought, there's a puncture that's already bad."

"A puncture?"

"Here." Sam touched his skin, it felt like a red-hot poker had been rammed into it. And Dean had enough personal experience to know exactly what that felt like. "It's going septic fast."

"Like that cat bite I had, remember?" Dean said, sighing. "That was fun."

"I have to get you out of here, I don't think I can take care of that, it's going to need more than we have in the kit. I can give you an injection of penicillin and keep it clean, but I'm not sure it's going to be enough." Sam reached for the kit and grabbed the package of antibiotics. After he was finished he gave Dean two pain pills, gently packed the wound and pulled the blankets over him. "I'm going to leave it open."

"You're the doc."

"Water's hot, do you want some soup?" Sam asked calmly, too calmly for Dean's taste. It was beginning to worry him.

"There's tomato in the cupboard I checked," Dean replied.

While Sam made the soup, Dean watched the dust motes flicker in the light from the fire. The fact that he was so focused on them meant the fever was already starting. He decided against mentioning it, letting his brother in on it just didn't seem prudent right then. Sam's cool hand on his forehead let him know his secret was already out. His brother didn't say anything though, he just handed Dean the soup and sat on the edge of the bed with his own cup. He watched Sam sip at the soup.

Alarm bells started going off in his head.

"Sam?"

His brother looked at him.

"Did one of them get you too?"

_To Be Continued_


	10. When Documentaries Attack

_A/N: Advent Day Ten. _

**Snowflakes and Icicles **

**Chapter Ten**

**When Documentaries Attack**

There was an odd scratching noise coming from outside. Sam wondered if it was the wendigo or something else. The way this hunt was turning out, he wouldn't be surprised if an entire evening of Dean's favorite "B" monster movie monsters were headed their way. At least he'd seen the movies enough times to defeat most of them, in fact he was way ahead of the game when it came to monolith monsters.

"Sammy! Did one of them get you!" Dean repeated.

It was the urgency in Dean's voice that snapped Sam back. He looked down at his brother with a sheepish smile. "What?"

"Did one of them get you?" Dean growled.

"Other than hitting me?" Sam raised a hand to where the burn was starting to ache on his cheek, debating truth versus overprotective injured brothers doing stupid things and decided against the truth. "No."

Dean heaved out a sigh of relief. "Don't scare me like that."

"I didn't do anything."

"You were all calm, just drinking your soup."

"That scared you?"

"Well, yeah."

Sam laughed, he couldn't help it, and if it had a slightly hysterical tinge that his brother could recognize, well, that couldn't be helped. There was a moment of silence from Dean then he wheezed out a laugh too, grabbing his side in pain as he did so. Sam tried to stop, pressing his lips together and holding his breath, he didn't want Dean to hurt himself. Tears gathered at the edge of eyes as the laughter tried to escape. He carefully set the soup down on the table and went to put some wood on the fire, more to cover his laughter than anything. After several deep breaths, he had it under control and turned back to Dean. "Sorry."

His brother grinned at him. "Sammy coping mechanism number ten."

Sam glanced at the window, it was full dark and all he could see was his own reflection in the glass. It made the cabin suddenly feel as safe as it actually was, nothing could get to them. At least nothing supernatural, and considering the door was made of sawed logs and iron, he suspected things like bears would have a hard time getting in as well.

"You ever wonder about this place?" he asked as he sat back on the edge of the bed.

"What do you mean?"

"Why they built it, we're out in the middle of nowhere, it's full of bugs in the summer, snows in the winter, but still dad and Bobby took the time to build this place, protect it with everything they could..." Sam trailed off as a thought occurred to him.

"What?"

"What what?"

"I can see the gears turning and hear the squeaking from here. What?"

"Isn't it a little weird, that there are two wendigos out here by this place?"

"How do you mean?" Dean frowned at him. He was already feverish, bright spots on his cheeks and glassy eyes attesting to that fact.

"I was watching this documentary..."

Dean groaned.

"On the History Channel..."

Dean groaned louder.

"It wasn't very good..."

"Of course not."

"Dean," Sam huffed.

"What, I'm listening."

"Fine. They had one 'expert' on there, a folklorist, who talked about how sightings of ghosts, supernatural creatures or even UFOs..."

Dean groaned again.

"Even UFOs," Sam said over his brother's mock groans. "They often gather in one spot. They called them hot spots."

Dean stopped and looked at him as he got it. Trust the hunter in Dean to function no matter what. So you think this is a hot spot?"

Sam shrugged. "It would explain the cabin. It would explain why they were up here hunting at least three or four times a year."

"Two wendigos now, there was the haunting five months ago, a werewolf five miles south, the tiparoo..." Dean looked at Sam in horror. "Oh boy."

"Yeah."

_To Be Continued_


	11. From Scopulus with Love

_A/N: Advent Day Eleven. Scopulus want in on the festivities and wanted to send you all his love by inspiring this chapter._

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Eleven**

**From Scopulus with Love**

Something akin to fear was starting to pound in time with the pain radiating out from the wound in his side. Dean stared at his brother as the full import of those words really worked their way into his brain. A hot spot. It made sense, in fact, they had been talking about a similar idea several weeks before when they had been chasing a series of spirits in a small valley in southern Arizona. He'd never really thought about this cabin even though they had been coming there hunting for years.

"It would explain a lot," he said, watching Sam.

"Yeah, it would," his brother said.

"Do you think it's just one thing at a time, or we've just been lucky all these years?"

"Lucky?" Sam squinched at him, probably remembering the list of injuries and near-death experiences they could chock up to the area.

"That we are usually only hunting one thing and that we have never met the mixed army of the underworld or something?" Dean sighed. "I just jinxed us, didn't I?"

"Probably."

"At least the seal with flippers of death was a hallucination."

"The polar bear wasn't."

"We won't have anything like..." Dean stopped before Sam could tell him to, because if it was something like a hot spot, thought forms might be more likely as well. "I'll shut up now."

"Good idea. How does your side feel?"

"Oh, I am down to a solid four."

"So a twelve?"

"Five."

"Fourteen?"

"Eight?"

"Thirteen?" Sam frowned at him.

"Two."

Seventeen?"

"One point three five two."

"Dean."

"Sam."

"I need to know so I can treat it," Sam said and pulled out the secret weapon. The "please, don't you trust me, Dean?" look. The little brother look that got him every time, and Sam knew it.

"That's just mean," Dean grumbled. "Fine. It hurts."

"How?"

Dean thought about it. A lot of people would think it was a stupid question, but he knew it wasn't. They had no diagnostic equipment and had to rely on what they knew and observed. "It feels hot, and it's throbbing."

"Deep?"

"Yeah, it's infected." He frowned.

"What?"

"There's something else."

"What do you mean?"

"Now that I am all thawed, it feels like, weird."

"Weird?" Sam lifted the blankets off, pulled up his shirt and removed the bandages. "Weird how?"

"Weird weird."

Sam was prodding at the wound. He reached for a clean bandage. "Sorry, this is going to hurt."

"It's okay."

Sam swiped at the wound, gently at first, then pressing harder, to the point it was sheer agony for Dean. All he could do was clamp his teeth together and try and keep the groans he couldn't stop from becoming screams. Even over all that he heard Sam's sharp intake of breath. Dean forced his eyes open. His brother was motionless, his face as white as Dean had ever seen it. _Oh, that is so not good._ "Sammy?"

"Oh god, Dean."

"What?"

"I think one of its fingernails broke off inside you."

_To Be Continued_


	12. Glowing Eyes Are Bad

_A/N: Advent Day Twelve. I'm sorry you have to unwrap this a day late. I spent last night pacing the floor in the ER. It made your chapter late, (And it's short I know, but I wanted to make sure you had one for every day!) but look at it this way, you all know what those experiences lead to... yep... an extra special dose one-shot of Winchester will be forthcoming. As well as Day Thirteen. _

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Twelve**

**Glowing Eyes Are Bad**

Sam stared at the wound. As used to wounds as he was, there was a tiny flutter of nausea as he peered into this one. He could just make out the dark fleck of the fingernail, and now that he knew what it was, it was making him sick. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the small LED flashlight they kept in the first aid kit and used it to get a better look.

"Can you reach it?" Dean asked. Sam glanced up, his brother was watching him through glassy eyes. "Get it out?"

"I'm not sure." Sam gently probed in the wound, Dean hissed in pain. "It's in a bad spot."

"So, wait?"

Sam set the probe down. "I don't know." If he waited the infection might get much worse faster than he could handle.

"The infection will go nuts."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" Dean smiled.

"I don't think I can just pull it out, it needs surgery, Dean, and I've never actually done anything like that."

"There's a first time for everything, Sammy. Remember the first time you stitched me up?"

"You think most families first times are things like that?"

"Probably not," Dean admitted, then grinned. "We're not most families."

"No." Sam sighed. "If I can get you out in the morning."

"Do you think you can?" Dean said, searching his face.

Sam got up and paced the length of the cabin. They could make it back to the car and out of the mountains in about five hours. _Assuming the wendigo is dead, and assuming we get lucky. The good kind of luck. _He wasn't sure if he was ready to risk actual surgery in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. There was just so much that could go wrong. He paced back. The cabin was ten paces long. When he reached the fireplace, he took a moment to put some wood on the fire and add water to the pot.

"Need exercise?"

"What?" Sam stopped and turned towards his brother.

"All that walking." Dean frowned at him. "And you know, pacing when you're leg is hurt and you are trying to hide it is not up to the Sammy smart standards."

"Huh?"

"You're limping."

"No, I'm not," Sam said.

"Yeah, you are."

"No, I'm not."

Dean smirked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. You are."

"My foot's asleep."

"And I am supposed to believe that convincing story because?"

"It's an awesome story," Sam said with a grin.

"That's a lame ass excuse."

"It's the one you used three weeks ago."

"Oh, you mean the one I used when I'd impaled my foot on that spike and didn't want you to know?

_Oops. _"Yeah."

"So, want to try again?" Dean asked, looking at him.

Sam was thinking up a good excuse when he thought he saw something flash outside the window. He moved closer, but the reflection from the lantern and the fire gave the glass a mirror like quality. _There it is again. _He lifted the curtain, casting a shadow on the window, looking out into the night. Once the light was off the glass it was easier to see, even though the snow was still falling. Right at the edge of the treeline there were several sets of glowing red eyes. He dropped the curtain and turned back to Dean.

"What's out there?" Dean said, his voice quiet, as if whatever it was could hear him.

"I'm not sure, but there's more than one."

"Oh, great, company. How fun is that?"

_To Be Continued_


	13. Dean's Favorite Sport

_A/N: Advent Day Thirteen. I am so getting a lump of coal for this one._

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Dean's Favorite Sport**

A log dropped in the fireplace with enough of a thump to make them both jump. Dean pushed himself up, fighting the pain. He needed to get a look at what was outside. As he moved the pain quickly became more intense and he ground his teeth together, but kept moving. Sam blew out the lamp and helped him up without a word of protest. Once he was at the window, Sam held the curtain, blocking the light from the fire.

It took a moment for Dean's eyes to adjust, but once they did, he could see something moving, glowing spots in the flying snow. Whatever they were, they were lower to the ground than the wendigos, more animal in height, than human. As a list of creatures began to unroll in his head, he sighed. "Great." He leaned against Sam.

"They might be night hunters," Sam offered.

"With those eyes? Probably."

"Have you seen enough?" Sam asked. It was a serious question, Sam knew that Dean needed to know what was out there.

"For now."

Sam helped him back to bed, lit the lantern and carefully settled him before checking the wound again, his face bleak. Dean didn't have to ask. The pain was getting worse, taking on that odd throbbing sensation of a deep infection. His brother was going to have to do something about it, and he was scared. Dean didn't blame him, if their roles were reversed he would be terrified to take that first slice into Sam. Who knows, maybe he couldn't even manage it. Sam had a quality of strength that people missed sometimes. He was a big guy sure. Dean smirked, _Sasquachean, in fact. _But, it was that inner core people missed. The part that let him, at thirteen, stitch up his elder brother's leg; that let him carry on though a forest when it would have been easier to give up; that... there were too many to name.

"Is _Sasqauchean_ a word?" Dean asked.

"Is your fever going up?" Sam replied, ignoring the question.

"Yeah." The bright sparkles at the edge of the vision were a sure sign of that. They would become something else soon. Dean had no idea what. That could vary. Pixies, Dean-eating moths, many things appeared during fevers. Of course, there was no TV, so his favorite fever-time activity was out. "No curling."

"I think you have an unhealthy addiction to that game."

"I love curling. It's the greatest sport ever invented."

"You just think that because it's the kind of thing you would've come up with," Sam said as he stared at the table and the first aid kit.

"_We_ totally could have," Dean corrected. "And that's part of it, but I would have added two more players."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, the Thwackers."

"What's a Thwacker?"

Dean smiled. He'd been waiting for a long time for this. "You know the guys who sweep?"

"Yeah? They make you laugh when you are on pain meds."

"Best sport ever, Sammy."

"So the sweeping guys..."

"The Thwackers get one clear thwack at them with a braided wicker thwacking stick."

Sam laughed. "So they get to just slide up and thwack the guy on the side of the head?"

"Well, yeah, no thwacking below the belt. I think if they added thwacking it could really take off as an American sport. We could have a long curling season..." Dean trailed off with a sigh of contentment. "Wouldn't that be awesome?"

"Would it mean I would never have to watch _Spinal Tap _again?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Dean groaned as the pain spiked. "Sorry. Sam..."

"I can't."

"You have to, Sammy. You know you do."

Sam took a deep breath and met his eyes. "I know. God, Dean, what if I kill you?"

"Look at the wound, Sam, I'll trust you. Can it wait? With those things out there, do we have a choice?"

Sam got up and looked out the window for a long moment. Then, to Dean's surprise, he walked quickly to the door and opened it, stepping out into the snow for a moment. A second later, Dean heard them coming, even through the snow-muted woods, even over the crackle of the fire. Sam stepped a little further away, then at the last possible moment, ducked back into the protected boundary of the cabin. Dean saw the dark creatures racing through the snow, stopping short of hitting the wall that surrounded them, and even in the dim light he saw enough to be worried. Whatever they were, he hadn't seen them before, and there was a pack. But they also were unable to cross into their cabin, so Sam stepped in and closed the door.

"I don' t think they're going to let us leave." Sam walked back to the bed and sat down, picking up the LED light again and looking into the wound.

"Well?"

"Dean..."

"It has to come out, doesn't it?"

"The infection is already spreading."

"So, that's a yes."

"Dean, I can't."

"You can. You stitched me up, you can do this."

"Dean."

"Look at the wound, Sam. Will I last if you don't?"

Sam was quiet for a long time. Then his face turned green. Actually turned green. "Dean..." he whispered in horror.

"What?"

"You're right. I have to, but Dean, oh god."

"Sam?" The look on his brother's face was scaring Dean more than he would ever admit.

"It's digging itself deeper. I can see it moving now."

"Oh," Dean said, very calmly. "Then you better get started."

_To Be Continued_


	14. Demonic Naked Mole Rats?

_A/N: Advent Day Fourteen, and a nice long one for making you wait the other day. Oh, yeah, and you all might want to option a coal mine for Santa, he's going to need it at my stocking. Wait, it's not me, Scopulus made me..._

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Demonic Naked Mole Rats?**

The dark nail wiggled, almost as if it was waving at Sam and moved deeper into Dean's flesh. Sam couldn't help it, he gagged. As it moved, he noticed a slow seep of filth in its wake. Even if there wasn't a pack of whatever they were out there, he would have to get it out tonight. Dean wouldn't make it through the night, the nail might hit an artery or vital organ or... He gagged again.

"I haven't seen that look in a while," Dean said.

"What look?" Sam tore his eyes away from the wound.

"The 'I'm going to toss my cookies' look."

"I'm not."

"You look like it."

"Dean..."

"You can do this, Sam."

"I don't know if I can."

"I do." Dean smiled at him. "I told you all that stuff I took would be worth it."

"I think I said I hoped we wouldn't need it," Sam said with a sigh of regret. Dean had taken the opportunity one night to "borrow" some of the contents of a supposedly locked cabinet in an ER. The doctor hadn't closed it correctly, and Dean had been frantic with worry, bored, pissed at the medical staff and, despite all that he was, still Dean and knew an opportunity when it was presented. Thanks to that act, they had an interesting variety of sutures, wound care items and drugs.

"Wishful thinking."

"Yeah."

"What do you think is out there?"

"Out where?"

"Outside in the snow? Glowing red eyes? Charged you when you brilliantly stepped outside?"

"Oh, right, out there." Sam started moving things closer to the edge of the table, maybe it would be better to put Dean on the floor to operate.

"You should put me on the floor."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" Dean levered himself up with one arm. "That way the bed will stay dry and we can clean it up."

"We?" Sam laughed. "What do you think's out there?"

"Out where?"

"In the snow?"

"Oh, I didn't get a good look. Four-legged, fur."

"No fur," Sam corrected.

"No fur?" Dean asked, surprised.

"None that I could make out. They were black, at least they looked black right now."

"No fur?"

"No fur."

"You're sure there was no fur?"

"I'm sure there was no fur."

"No fur, you're sure?"

"Yeah," Sam said.

"There was no fur, you're very sure?"

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you screwing with me?"

"Maybe. Seriously, though, I can't think of anything that hunts in packs that doesn't have fur."

"Me either. You ready?"

"Yeah."

Sam helped Dean sit up, pulled his shirt off and helped him over to the floor by the fire. He folded up one of the sheets from the cupboard and put it along Dean's side to catch any blood then started bringing over the items he'd need.

"So we can rule out werewolves and black dogs," Dean said, watching him as he got ready.

"I'm not sure I'm happy about that." Sam finished setting out the instruments and got the sutures, then grabbed the small wooden box with their collection of drugs. "At least we know how to deal with those."

"We know what those are. What the hell doesn't have fur?"

"Reptiles? Humans?" Sam went to his bag and got out the collection of medical notes he'd been given by their friend Dr. Dave Robinson, including dosages for various hard core drugs and anesthetics. He also picked up his copy of a surgical anatomy book and carried them back to Dean.

"Naked mole rats."

"Naked mole rats?" Sam looked at his brother.

"Yeah, they live in Africa in burrows like ants and they..." Dean stopped. "Okay, maybe sometimes I watch a documentary too."

"They're mammals?" Sam asked, knowing the answer, but he was starting to get nervous.

"Yeah. Maybe our pack is like that."

"The pack out there in the snow is demonic naked mole rats?"

"It could happen." Dean grinned. "Considering it's us, it's highly likely."

"Are they carnivorous?"

"The regular kind or the demonic kind?" Dean asked.

"The regular kind."

"No, they eat tubers."

"Maybe the demonic kind do too," Sam said. "It could happen."

"And you were one big tuber. Maybe the demonic ones prefer meat."

"Most demonic things do."

"Someday it would be nice to meet a demonic vegan. Sucks the life out of veggies like Bunnicula."

Sam smiled. "Bunnicula?" He remembered his brother reading him the book over and over one winter when they'd found it in the trash outside a bookstore. The small illustration of Chester the cat trying to impale Bunnicula with a t-bone still made Sam laugh.

"Yeah." Dean smiled back, obviously sharing the memory. "Why couldn't that happen?"

"We'll look for one. A town full of stalking celery and white pumpkins." Sam used hand sanitizer on his hands, pulled a vial and a needle out of the box, checked Dr. Dave's notes and looked at Dean. "All the way out?"

"No, just enough to be safe."

"Yeah, it's probably safer if I don't knock you all the way out anyway, I have no way to monitor your vitals. I'll numb the wound too. I have notes for that too."

"Do that first."

"Okay." Sam grabbed another syringe and filled it and started carefully numbing down the tissue following the doctor's notes. He knew the moment it started working when Dean sighed a little in relief.

"If there is a pack out there, do you think there's more? Something waking them up?"

"I'm not sure," Sam said absently.

"You're the brains in this outfit, geekboy," Dean said. He frowned. "Wait."

"What?"

"I need to check something."

"Dean..."

"No, now, I need you to look now. I just thought of something. It should be on that calendar in my bag. I wish the cell phones were working to just check fast, but grab the calendar."

Sam hesitated.

"Please."

"What is it?"

"If it's what I think it is, this is just going to get worse."

Sam dug through his brother's bag until he found the small booklet, it was a collection of tides and lunar events Dean kept track of throughout the year. When he'd first discovered it, he'd spent an hour going through it, amazed at the amount of information his brother had amassed. Not that he had, but why, then Dean had explained his theory that not only the moon, but other celestial events as well as the tides seemed to affect the supernatural world and he kept track of it all. He carried the book back, handed it to Dean and sat down.

His brother opened it, his movements slow because of the drugs in his side. "Oh shit, shit shit shit. Fuck."

"What is it, Dean."

"We are hosed, screwed... I could go on, but there is really no word for it."

"No word for what?"

"We're in a hot spot, right?"

"Yeah."

"Look at this, look what's coming."

Sam took the book and looked down at the note in his brother's block print hand. "Are you sure?"

"I get all this stuff from NASA."

"So if we're not out of here on the 21st?"

"There is a full lunar eclipse of the full moon on the Winter Solstice. And this hot spot..."

Sam looked at him in horror. "It's going to boil over."

_To Be Continued_


	15. I Heard You Thinking

_A/N: Advent Day Fifteen. Sorry, I know I'm a day late, and yes, day sixteen will be up on time. I was back in the ER, pacing not for my brother, but for my mother this time. When I catch the writer of the show that is my life I am salting and burning them..._

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**I Heard You Thinking**

Dean's hands were shaking as he held the book, staring at his notes. A lunar eclipse on the Solstice, he was also trying to ignore the fact it was the Geminids Meteor Shower. His notes showed that the height of the shower was the thirteenth and fourteenth, right when the creatures appeared, but would continue through the nineteenth. There was also a very worrying massive tidal swing on the twenty-fourth, but he would skip mentioning that until after surgery.

"What else?" Sam asked, giving him the all-knowing Sammy look. Dean sometimes wondered how he got away with anything, his brother had an amazing radar at times.

"Meteors, things like that."

"Little things."

"Yeah." Dean smirked. "It's not like the sky is falling or anything."

"Right."

He handed the book back to Sam. "There's not much we can do about it right now anyway." From the scowl that crossed his brother's face that hadn't been the right thing to say. "We're safe here, nothing's coming in. Maybe we can just wait it out." The stuff Sam had given him to numb the wound was really starting to work. He could still feel it, but the pain had decreased to a level that was manageable. Dean opened his mouth.

"No."

"No we can't just wait it out?" Dean asked, a little confused.

"No, you are not letting me cut into you with just what I've given you."

"I didn't say anything."

"I heard you thinking it."

"I didn't think a single word."

"Oh, yeah, I heard it. You were thinking, 'it doesn't hurt so bad now, I'll be fine with just this', deny it, go ahead."

"Sammy..."

"So, you were thinking it."

"I actually hadn't gotten that far. I was at the 'it doesn't hurt that bad now'."

"Oh, good, I caught it in time for a change," Sam said as he fussed with the items beside Dean.

"What does that mean?"

"That means the 'Dean Winchester Plantar Wart Removal System' among other things."

"It worked."

"Dean," Sam huffed in frustration.

"What? It did."

"You were alternately soaking your foot in bleach and hydrogen peroxide and scraping layers of flesh out of your foot with a table knife."

"The wart didn't come back," Dean said, defensively.

"You couldn't walk for two days."

"Yeah, and if a doctor had cut it out, I wouldn't have been able to walk either."

Sam looked at him and made a rude noise, something between his usual huff and a growl. "You could have tried something other than that."

"What like wart remover? It said right on it, it wasn't for..."

"I'm pretty sure that if they thought anyone would be stupid enough to use bleach, peroxide and a table knife for wart removal they would say they weren't for plantar warts either."

"Picky."

"I'm funny that way."

"You're such a girl."

Sam stopped fussing and picked up a small vial and needle and carefully filled it, double checking it against the book of notes sitting open beside Dean's head. He saw his brother swallow nervously as he checked the dose one more time.

"You'll do fine."

"Try not to give me directions, okay?" Sam said nervously.

"I'll be mostly out."

"Yeah, like that's ever stopped you." His brother tried for a laugh, it came out choked. Dean noticed his hands were shaking.

"Okay, fine, I'll try." He smiled and rested his hand against Sam's side. "Go ahead, Sammy."

"Dean..."

"Go ahead."

Sam met his eyes for a long moment, then nodded. Dean felt, his brother's warm hand close around his wrist then the prick of the needle at his elbow and the cold rush of the drug as it entered his system.

_To Be Continued_


	16. Surgery

_A/N: Advent Day Sixteen. I felt so bad about missing yesterday, I wanted to make sure you all got this as fast as possible since I left that one on a bit of a cliffie... I wouldn't do that twice in one day, that would earn me coal. Lots of coal._

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Surgery**

The wind was coming up, Sam could hear it breathing against the chimney. It had a deep bass note, like someone blowing over the mouth of a bottle, the result of the too-many-to-name-protections that were covering that seemingly weak spot in the cabin. It wasn't a weak spot at all. For one thing it was very narrow and had iron grills in place. Thirteen of them. Each etched with a different charm or trap.

"Doing?" Dean mumbled.

"I thought you weren't going to tell me what to do?" Sam focused back on his brother, checking his pulse and various other markers Dr. Dave had carefully explained to him.

"Wan get ver with."

"I know, Dean, but I don't want to put you into shock and kill you."

"Kay."

Sam waited, watching the seconds tick by on his watch. He checked Dean again. "Dean?"

"Mmmm."

"You there?"

"Mmmm."

Taking a deep breath, Sam sanitized his hands and wondered what would be the best way to reduce possible infection. _Does it matter? He has a wendigo fingernail swimming around in him. _He rubbed some of the sanitizer over the package on the scalpel, pulled on sterile gloves and opened up the blade. _Oh, god. _

"S'kay."

Sam looked down in surprise, Dean had one eye open and was watching him with concern. His brother somehow managed to quirk an eyebrow at him and let the eye slide close again. Sam didn't know if he should feel better or worse that Dean was aware enough to know what was going on.

"I'm going to get started," Sam said, lowering the scalpel and gently prodding the flesh, when Dean didn't react he let out a little sigh of relief. He knew it wouldn't last, but maybe it would help. "Okay, here we go."

The fingernail was still working its way through Dean's wound, Sam could just see the tip and moved towards it. As soon as the blade touched the flesh near it, the thing drove itself deep enough that Sam couldn't see it anymore. Grinding his teeth together, Sam reached into the wound with one hand and sliced into his brother's body.

Dean groaned softly.

The dark nail was still moving, Sam glanced at his anatomy book and cut a little deeper, the nail moved again. He made another small slice, but something told him to stop. He swabbed out the area and spotted his quarry, it was wiggling, as if it was waving. Sam knew it wasn't intelligent, but he felt like it was mocking him.

He couldn't keep chasing it deeper, he had to try something else or he would end up killing his brother.

An idea occurred to him and he picked up another scalpel. After swabbing the area as best as he could, he made a move to cut into the flesh on top of the nail and as soon as the thing started to move he slid the second scalpel under it. He actually felt the small click when it connected with the metal blade. Swallowing the rush of nausea, he was preparing to grab it when it began to move laterally through Dean's body.

Sam tried to block it, but it moved, he steeled himself to try again,

Nothing would ever prepare him for the shriek of pain that escaped his brother's mouth as his body arched in agony.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, pulling his hand away, desperately trying to see what was wrong. _No, no, oh god, no, please, no._

Dean continued to scream.

"No!" Sam growled. There was no way this was going to happen.

Sam looked at Dr. Dave's notes and reached for the vial again. He would be willing to risk more of the drug, Dean's body couldn't take whatever was happening for long. He pinned his brother's arm under his knee and managed to give him the dose. Dean slowly relaxed, still moaning in pain, but slipped into unconsciousness.

Blood was flowing everywhere, Sam tried his best to clean it up enough to see what he was doing. He spotted the tip of the dark nail, it wasn't moving at the moment, just the smallest sliver of black buried in Dean's flesh. Sam couldn't tell what is was doing to cause his brother's pain, but he suspected that any more movement would probably kill Dean.

He had no idea what to do.

Sitting back on his heels for half a second, he cast his eyes over the collection of instruments from their first aid kit. There was nothing there that seemed to offer a good answer. He had to keep it from moving long enough to get it out, so he had to trap it. For some reason his eyes had stopped on a piece of metal, not a surgical instrument. He stared at it.

He had an idea.

Sam stripped off the gloves and grabbed one of the scalpels and the piece of metal. He made quick work of it, praying the whole time this wasn't fratricide he was planning. It had to work. He smeared the hand sanitizer all over it, hoping it was enough. He cleaned his hands, pulled on another pair of gloved and turned back to his brother.

"Here we go, Dean." He held his breath and with one quick move plunged the metal into his brother. Even under the influence of the drugs, Dean reacted, his body twitching. Sam persisted. He was sure the nail was trapped and reached for a scalpel, cutting deep enough to expose the nail. It was still wiggling, trying to work its way around the trap. Sam grabbed the forceps and got a good hold on the thing and started tugging it out of Dean. It fought him every inch until he finally pulled it free. Once it was out, he didn't even pause to look at it, he tossed it into the fire, barely registering as it exploded into flames.

He pulled the metal out of his brother and cleaned the wound, carefully closing it. It was bleeding badly, the trail of the dark fingernail already red and angry with infection. _Deal with what you can. Stay calm, then panic. _Sam packed the wound and checked Dean's pulse. That was when he noticed his hands, still in the surgical gloves, covered with his brother's blood. Sam stripped the gloves off and tossed them in the fire, dropping down beside Dean, his entire body shaking.

"Please, Dean, please," he whispered, not even sure what he was asking. "Please."

_To Be Continued_


	17. Guilt and Growls

_A/N: Advent Day Seventeen_

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Guilt and Growls**

A comfortable warmth surrounded Dean as he woke. There was a soft ache in his side that he knew should be something much more serious, but wasn't. He floated on that thought for a minute and wondered why it didn't hurt, although at the moment he wasn't sure why it should be painful in the first place. As he came more awake he realized he was on something soft, and that registered as different as well, when he went to sleep he was on the floor, right? Why was that? He tried to open his eyes, when that didn't work, he concentrated on just getting one open and after several tries the right eyelid slid up.

Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his body trembling. Dean knew the posture. His brother was worried, maybe panicking and quite possibly freaking, depending on how bad things were, and judging by the droop of his left shoulder, Sam felt guilty about something as well.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, his throat so dry it came out as a hiss of air and not much else.

"Dean!" His brother's head snapped up, his eyes were red-rimmed and bright with tears. He frowned at Dean, then picked up a cup from the table beside the bed. He slipped his hand behind Dean's shoulders and lifted him enough to take a sip of water.

"Thanks," Dean said. He took a deep breath, the first touch of something that was going to become pain touched his side, but he still managed to get his other eye open. "The fingernail!"

"What?" Sam's frown deepened.

"You were getting the fingernail out."

"Yeah." Sam's shoulder drooped more.

"Did you get it?" Dean's tongue felt heavy.

"Yeah."

Something wasn't adding up. Sam looked shattered. "What?" Dean's brain felt a little heavy too. "Sam?"

"It... Yeah. I got it," Sam said, sighing. "Do you want a little more water?"

"I'm okay." He blinked. _I'd be okay if the fuzz would get out of my brain. _

"Yeah." His brother checked his side, then stood, pacing to the fireplace and poking at it before stalking to the door. He watched as his brother paced. Some people might mistake it for not caring, but he could see Sam was frantic, and trying to cope with more than one really bad thing. _Oh, more than one bad thing. Huh. _Once Sam reached the door he opened it and stepped out into the night. Dean heard something growling, and Sam stepped back in, closing the door and then came back to sit on the bed. "Yeah."

"Sam?"

"Yeah."

"What?" Dean moved a little, it was a mistake, pain exploded in his side making bright sparkles in front of his vision.

"Dean! Hold still!" Sam's put a hand on his shoulder, his voice sounding panicked and more than a little terrified.

"Sure, now you tell me," Dean wheezed, breathing through the pain.

"Most people aren't dumb enough to move like that after surgery."

"People? I ain't people..."

"Dean, if you finish that quote, so help me..." Sam growled.

"Fine." Dean opened his eyes again and looked at his brother. "Out with it."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "It was worse than I thought, the nail tried to escape."

"Escape?"

"Yeah." Sam swallowed, looking sick. "I..."

"You got it, right?"

"Dean..."

"That's what matters."

"I did a lot of damage, I think," Sam said, his voice anguished. "I couldn't stop it. I had no idea it would do that."

"If you hadn't gotten it out, Sammy, I wouldn't have a chance at all. I have one now."

"Yeah."

"At least a fighting one."

"Yeah."

"So what's the problem?"

"Problem?"

"I know that look, Sam, what's the problem?"

"Dean..."

Something growled, the sound turning into a howl that raised the hair on the back of Dean's neck. The first growling howl was joined by a second then a third.

"Those aren't the demonic naked mole rats," Dean said, looking at Sam.

"No, they aren't."

_To Be Continued_


	18. Just Like ROUSes

_A/N: Advent Day Eighteen _

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Just Like ROUSes**

The growling howl sounded again, Sam unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck, then smiled sheepishly at his brother. He was frantically worried about Dean, and he had no way to explain to his brother just what had happened during that desperate surgery. The fact that there was something outside to distract them both was a bit of a relief.

"So no demonic naked mole rats?" Dean sounded so disappointed Sam chuckled.

"They're still out there."

"Oh good."

"Good?"

"Yeah, I like having DNMRs, they're like ROUSes."

"Of course. The DNMRs are out there."

"Yeah. Wait, if they are still..." He was interrupted by the howl. "Then what's that?"

"I don't know." Sam got up and walked to the door. His leg was starting to ache. Opening the door he looked out into the night. The glowing eyes of the mole rats—or whatever they actually were—moved through the trees. He'd been standing there for only a moment when he spotted one of the newcomers, a dark shadow in the swirling snow. Whatever it was, it was huge, he could just make out what he thought was a shoulder—and it would be several inches above his head. It was moving on all fours, silent in the night, but when it stopped to let out one of its howls it stood on its hind legs. _Oh, shit. _Sam stepped back into the protection of the cabin.

"Screwed?" Dean asked.

"Oh, yeah." Sam stopped by the fire and added a little coal to make sure it was burning well. Just for good measure he put on some white sage, trefoil, vervain and elder. With the growing number of creatures, there was no way Sam could make a run for the Impala in the morning. The infection growing in Dean needed more care than he could provide and that was before the wendigo's nail decided to take a little trek through Dean's chest cavity. "Don't even say it, Dean."

"Say what?"

"That I should just try and get out."

"Shut up."

"I knew it!"

"It's a good idea."

"It might have been, maybe, but that was before the eighteen-foot furry things showed up."

"The what?"

"That's what's howling. I sort of got a look at one of them. It walks on all fours, and it's maybe six or seven inches taller than me at the shoulder, when it howled it stood on its hind legs. It's a rough guess, but I'd say it was about eighteen feet."

"And there's more than one."

"Three distinct howls so far."

"And the demonic naked mole rats?"

"They're still there."

"And the wendigo?"

"No."

"No?" Dean frowned at him.

"The naked mole rats ate him. What's left of his body is out in the clearing beside the house."

"Poor guy, I kind of feel sorry for him." Dean grinned. "Yeah, right."

Something clunked against the house with a sharp sound. Sam ran to the door and opened it, in time to see another chunk of ice slam into the wall. It broke apart harmlessly on the heavy logs, but he couldn't see what was throwing it.

"I'll be right back."

"SAM!" Dean shouted.

Ignoring his brother, Sam walked to the very edge of the outermost protective circle. Even though it was buried under the snow, he'd spent so much time there, he knew exactly where everything was. Staring into the night as his eyes adjusted he tried to see what was out in the trees. The snow stung as it hit his face, the cold making his leg ache. _Oh...no_

The DNMRs had spotted him and were charging towards him at full speed, even though he was within a circle of protection, Sam turned and ran for the cabin. What he'd seen motivated him to a speed he hadn't achieved in years. He dashed in the door, slammed it and shoved the iron bar, locking it into place with enough force to impale a small car. Panting, he turned to his brother.

"Sam? Sam what is it?"

_To Be Continued_


	19. Never So Bad It Can't Get Worse

_A/N: Advent Day Nineteen_

_A/N II: For those of you who asked—ROUSes are Rodents of Unusual Size, from the _Princess Bride._ I might have seen it once or twice. Okay, three times, maybe four... Five? Less than one hundred?_

**Snowflakes and Icicles **

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Never So Bad It Can't Get Worse**

The look on Sam's face was enough to set Dean's heart racing, he knew it took a lot to get that pure terror to flash in his brother's eyes. In fact, he couldn't remember ever seeing it quite like that. _Which is so far beyond bad it's not funny. _Dean couldn't help staring at Sam's hand, clasped around the bar on the door, the knuckles showing through the skin.

"Sam?" he said, trying to keep as much emotion as possible out of his voice. It was hard, pretty much every cell in his body was screaming "run, do something, run".

His brother took several deep breaths, visibly trying to get himself under control. "I..." Sam began then stopped with a shake of his head.

"What's out there?"

"Dean." Sam pushed himself away from the door, walked over to their bags and started going through them, laying out every weapon they'd brought with them.

"Sam? What's out there?"

"Nothing."

Dean coughed, pain spiking through his body. When he finished, he realized his brother was supporting him. "Well?" he wheezed as Sam held a cup to his lips. "Thanks. What kind of nothing?"

"The bad kind."

"The bad kind or the bad bad kind?"

"Bad bad bad," Sam replied.

"Are you sure?"

"Remember Imnaha?"

"That bad?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows.

"No."

"Oh, good." He waited a minute, watching Sam. "It's worse, right?"

"Oh yeah."

"How worse?"

Sam just shook his head.

"Can we get out in the morning?"

"While I was watching I think two more things appeared."

"The hot spot mixing with the Solstice," Dean said with certainty.

"Yeah."

"So no getting out," Dean mumbled. "We need to know what's out there."

"We're protected."

"Are we?"

Sam sighed in relief, like Dean had voiced something he'd been afraid to bring up. "I don't know. I'm not sure the charms and everything were designed for what's out there."

"We need to know what's out there, too bad we don't have wireless," Dean said with a bitter chuckle.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I'm an idiot." He got up and walked over to his laptop bag. Dean had tried to get him to leave it in the car, but Sam said he wasn't about to risk his computer getting stolen while they were gone. Sam carried it back to the bed and sat down.

"No wireless."

"I don't need it. God, Dean, I'm sorry, I should have thought of it before. I've been downloading stuff. I have a bunch of books on here. I might be able to find something."

"Good thinking."

"I should have thought of it before."

"You thought of it now, that's what matters."

Dean watched as the computer booted up and Sam started opening various pages. He'd stop for a moment to read and move on. At one point he had four different windows open and was flipping back and forth between them. Frowning, Sam picked up Dean's book with the astronomical observation in it and compared it to something he was reading. Dean had seen the phrase "the blood drained out of his face" but he'd never actually seen it in action until that moment. Starting at the top of his head, Sam slowly went sheet white. For half a second, Dean thought his brother was going to pass out, then the color rushed back in bright splash of red.

"Oh shit," Sam whispered.

"Sam?"

"Yule is the Old Winter festival, the longest night of the year, when pagan gods received sacrifices. A lot of the Christmas traditions stem from those old festivals."

"Okay, what's that got to do with us? No plum pudding out here."

"This is one of those places, like the circles in Britain and elsewhere, and the eclipse with the Solstice is the Rare Event mentioned in..." Sam was talking to himself as he looked at the information on the screen. "The gods and their followers are rising for the longest night, to seek sacrifice."

"Gods seeking sacrifice?" Dean said, wincing as pain spiked through his side. _Great, that never goes well. _

"Yeah," Sam answered.

"Gods. Plural."

"Yeah."

"How many plural?" Dean asked, frowning.

"All of them."

_To Be Continued_


	20. Winchester Normal

_A/N: Advent Day Twenty. _

_A/N II: For those interested, the Hel mentioned in the first paragraph is the daughter of Loki from Norse mythology._

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Twenty**

**Winchester Normal**

The light from the computer screen seemed out of place in the fire-lit cabin. Sam stared at the screen, a sense of helplessness washing over him. He had no idea if the cabin would hold against what was rising out in the forest. All the creatures of Hel, She of the Underworld, were going to walk, not to mention all the others that came on the Longest Night. He peered at the computer.

"So?" Dean poked him.

"What?"

"Answers, geekboy."

"They're here for sacrifice."

"Okay." Dean looked at him.

"No."

"No what?"

"I'm not sacrificing you."

"I'm bleeding, we have some blood," Dean said helpfully.

"It's more than blood," Sam huffed.

"I can take a little more," his brother insisted.

"Dean," Sam said patiently. "I am not hitting you on the head, strangling you until you are almost dead, then slitting your throat, okay?"

"Oh." Dean looked at him. "Yeah, let's wait on that."

"Thanks." Sam scrolled through more information. "Hey."

"Hay? We need hay?"

"Ha ha. No, a Yule log."

"Like those cake thingies Grandma Opal always makes?"

"They're actually based on that. The tradition was Christianized, but originally the Yule log was lit before the actual Solstice and had to burn for a set number of days. The single log couldn't go out, it was the protection against the gods that walked at Solstice."

"Finally!" Dean sighed in relief. "There's a couple of really big lo..." He trailed off. "It's not that easy is it? Of course it's not."

"It has to be gathered from the forest on the day the Solstice moon rises."

"So today."

"Yeah."

"And the woods are...busy."

"Yeah."

"Can we skip it? The cabin is protected."

"I don't think so, Dean, I found this." Sam pointed at the screen and started reading. "It says 'and on those days, all other protections fail, only the light of the blessed fire will protect you, not the sun or the stars, only the flame will keep you safe, the pool of its light is the only way free from the blood of the gods.' It's from an Old English document."

Dean frowned. "So, what, everything just stops working?"

"I think it stops working for specific things. The cabin wasn't really designed to keep these things out anyway. The walls holding them out are probably weaker, and for all we know, it might be accidental protections, not the intentional."

"What do you mean?" Dean shifted, Sam saw a spasm of pain cross his brother's face.

"Remember that summer we got bored and put the wire in the walls and tried to convince dad to get power up here?"

"Yeah?"

"The copper might be part of what's protecting us. And the outermost design is a simple pentagram, it's one of the oldest charms, that might be all that's actually between us and them," Sam said.

"Oh, I feel so much better now."

Sam stood, rubbing his leg. "I need to get a log."

"Oh no, hell no, not alone, Sam."

"They'll scent blood and come at you."

"It would distract them so you could get into the forest."

"NO!" Sam shouted, then took a breath. "Sorry. No. I'll get it." He held up a hand when Dean opened his mouth. "I'll put a chair in the door, the rifle has copper-jacketed bullets, those might slow down whatever's out there."

"Okay," Dean agreed reluctantly.

Sam dragged a chair to the door, trying to disguise his obvious limp. He could feel his brother's eyes on him. Dean wasn't fooled, but he wasn't saying anything, which meant things were bad. It was Dean's "Finish business then chew out Sammy" protocol. Sam smiled. At least things were normal. If going out into the forest full of monsters was normal.

"I've got your back, Sammy."

"Thanks, Dean."

Sam stepped out into the snow. The feeble sun had risen, it was enough to see the dark trees and the shadows slipping through them, but it still felt more like twilight than daytime. Some of the creatures seemed less active in the light, but they were all still there, moving in the forest. The longer he looked, the more he could see. His heart started racing as he reached the edge of the final circle of protection. He'd considered the most likely spot for a log, and to his left there was a fallen tree, it had been huge, but the top was pointing towards him, broken into a length he thought was manageable.

Could he get there and back before he became a Midwinter Sacrifice? _If you die, Dean does. So... Don't die. _

Taking a deep breath he ran straight for the tree, ignoring the sudden explosion of movement all around him and the sound of gunfire. Sam was focused on his goal. He grabbed a top branch and started back, head down, pulling the heavy load with everything he could manage. Something swiped at him knocking him down. He felt a trickle of blood across his face, but pushed himself up and carried on, still dragging the tree with him. Another hit caught him low on the hip, he stumbled but kept going. A clawed hand closed over his arm, but it jerked away with the crack of a rifle shot, Sam pushed on, the only thing he could focus on now was getting back to the cabin. It was too far, too far, too far, too far.

Something big was coming, the ground was actually trembling as it approached. _Not going to make it. _Sam kept pulling but he knew it was too much, there was no way.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, his hand closing above Sam's on the tree. "Not far, keep going."

"Dean?" He looked over at his brother in surprise.

They pulled it over the edge of the circle, collapsing onto the snow. Dean smiled at him, his face gray with pain. "How fun was that?"

_To Be Continued_


	21. Ye Ole Yule Log

_A/N: Advent Day Twenty-One_

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**Ye Ole Yule Log**

The cabin was warm after the blowing snow and icy wind outside. Dean didn't say a word as Sam helped him to the bed, carefully settling him before walking back to haul the massive log into the cabin. Their mad dash had paid off, the huge creature had stopped short of the outer circle, even though it was still out there; Dean could see it pacing along the edge like a tiger in a zoo.

Sam used one of the fireplace tools to push aside the flames and embers and shove the log as far back into the fireplace as he could get it to go. Once it was in, he piled burning logs and coals on top and they waited.

"It's pretty wet," Dean said, listening to the hiss.

"It is," Sam agreed.

"You know..."

"Oh no, nuh uh, no way."

"What?" Dean looked at his brother.

"I am not going to use the 'Dean Winchester guaranteed to get it burning trick' in this cabin, Dean."

"It always works," Dean protested.

"Because it's explosive."

"Not always."

"Last time you actually blew a tree over. A big tree. It could have killed us."

"But it didn't, in fact, it toasted the spirit and blocked the wind."

"Thank you, Pollyanna."

"You're welcome." Dean grinned at him, still watching the log. One tiny branch had caught, and a second. The bark was starting to dry out. He was waiting for what he knew was coming. It always happened with old wood, it would hiss and complain then burst into flame all at once. It was one of the few things he really loved about camping.

"We should move the bed closer to the fire," Sam said.

"Help me up."

"Dean, no."

"Sam, you are not pulling the bed with me on it over to the fire." Dean started to push himself up. "If you think you are being sneaky about your leg, you can just stop. Now help me up or I'll do it myself." The shift caused a huge wave of pain to blast through his body. Moving was a mistake, helping Sam haul the tree was probably, in light of his injuries, a mistake, but it had to be done. His body disagreed. One moment he was pushing himself off the bed the next the floor was moving towards him at high speed. He was pretty sure he heard his brother's desperate shout, but he wasn't sure as darkness engulfed him, thankfully, before he hit the hard wood floor.

The right side of his body was warm when he started to wake, the left was throbbing with the deep pain that meant it was infected. He could hear movement, Sam's distinctive step, a little off balance. Dean growled silently. He was so kicking Sam's ass about not mentioning that injury. His brother should know that Dean was the only one who got to not mention injuries. It was the rule.

"Sam?" Dean said, opening his eyes.

"Hey," Sam answered, walking back to the bed, carefully not limping. "Here." His brother held his head so he could take a sip of water. "How's your pain?"

"I'll live."

"That's not what I asked."

"I know. I could use something," he said honestly, watching the squinch form on Sam's forehead. He took the pill his brother handed him and glanced at the window. It was dark. "What time is it?"

"About four."

No wonder Sam was squinching at him. "I missed lunch."

"In the morning," Sam said flatly.

"No way."

"Way."

"The log's still burning," Dean said, looking at the fire.

"Yeah, and it seems to be working. At least so far. Something got really close to the cabin a couple of hours ago, but it just looked in the window and left. I heard screams around midnight."

"You check it out?"

"No," Sam said softly.

Dean caught a lot in that comment. Sam had wanted to, but he wouldn't leave the cabin. It would have been the same had their positions been reversed he would have stayed as well. "Yeah." He tried to move.

"Don't." His brother stilled him with a hand on his chest.

"That bad?" Dean asked, trying to get a look, Sam had swathed his chest in bandages.

"At least."

"Great. Sam..."

"Don't even start."

"Start on what?" Dean said, offended.

"I'm not leaving, I can't, not until everything out there goes back where it belongs."

"I was planning to bitch at you about the leg."

"It's not that bad, Dean." Sam rubbed it.

"How not bad, Sammy?" Dean asked gently.

"Not bad at all."

"So really bad."

"Shut up." Sam smiled at him.

There was a rattle at the door. Sam twisted to get a look at it, Dean turned his head and the door slammed open, the pack of demonic naked mole rats pouring into the cabin, filling it with the sound of their growls.

"Not good," Dean said calmly, his heart slamming against his ribcage every cell in his body screaming with a primitive urge to run. He reached out a hand for his brother and latched it on to Sam's arm.

"Not good," Sam agreed, grabbing Dean's wrist as they faced the creatures pouring into the room.

_To Be Continued_


	22. Quot Estis in Convivio

_A/N: Advent Day Twenty-Two_

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Quot Estis in Convivio**

Cold wind blasted through the cabin as the creatures continued to force their way in. Sam pushed the bed closer to the fire and the pool of light cast by the flames of the Yule log. He could feel the heat on his back and Dean's desperate hold on his arm, returning the grip as tightly, Sam pulled his legs onto the bed, shifting so they, too, were in the flickering light of the flames.

Behind the seemingly endless number of DNMRs something bigger tried to get through the door. Huge, shaggy fur, smelling of blood and...

"It smells like a wet dog," Dean muttered.

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

"Should we shoot it?" His brother was trying to keep his voice calm, but Sam could hear a shimmer of fear and pain in his words.

"I don't think that would help."

"It might make me feel better."

Sam tried for a smile as he watched the huge thing finally make its way into the room. Behind it came something else, smaller, scuttling on two legs, humanoid in form. "Troll?" he asked Dean.

"You're the geek."

"You figured out about the vanir." Sam turned to look at him, ignoring the things that were coming into the cabin. Dean's eyes were glassy, his fever was going up. "And the Solstice eclipse connection, and..."

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." Dean grinned. He glanced at the fire then back at Sam. "Do you think it's actually working?"

"Nothing has come close yet."

"Are there a lot of them?" Dean asked.

"I haven't looked since the trolls."

"One of us should, don't you think?"

Sam turned just far enough to get a glimpse of the room. "No, I don't."

"So we just ignore them?" Dean looked up at the ceiling.

A scream sounded from the forest, pulsing with agony, then cut off mid-note. Sam ground his teeth together. He knew Dean was doing the same, but they were both injured and there was no way past the room full of creatures without becoming a sacrifice themselves.

"I need to check your wound, Dean," Sam said, wishing he'd thought to grab the first aid supplies. He pulled up his brother's shirt and lifted the bandages away. There was an interested snuffling growl from the DNMRs as he did. Sam swallowed hard. The wound was seeping blood, it hadn't stopped since their mad dash to get the Yule log into the cabin, and the edges had gone from red and puffy to a color Sam didn't really want to think about. He took a piece of the bandage and dunked it into the pot of water on the fire and started gently cleaning the wound. It might not help... _No, it has to, it has to. _

"That looks like shit," Dean said.

"You're supposed to be holding still."

"You didn't tell me to hold still."

"You're just supposed to know," Sam huffed.

"That only applies to younger brothers."

"It applies equally."

"Does not."

"You sound about five, Dean."

"Yeah, well you sound about... about..." Dean paled. "That hurts, Sam."

"I'm sorry." Sam pulled his hand away and looked at the table with the first aid supplies. He had to get to them.

"No," Dean said quietly.

"What?"

"Not worth it."

"I should have put them on the bed when I had the chance."

"No Sammy second-guessing. You couldn't know we'd have company like this."

"I should have know the protections weren't going to hold, eventually things were coming through, it's why we needed the Yule log."

"Sam!" his brother snapped.

"I need the supplies," Sam said calmly. Dean might not understand just what that black-tinged flesh might mean, but Sam did. He needed clean bandages, antiseptic, the antibiotics and Dean was going to need the stronger pain meds in their little box.

"No."

"You don't get to say no in this. My choice," Sam growled.

"Have you looked out there?"

"I. Don't. Care."

"Fine, kill yourself."

"Fine, I will."

Sam turned towards the table, looking at the room full of creatures, they were swarming over and around each other like ants on a hill. The mass of fur was lurking by the door. Through the gap it left, Sam could see others out in the clearing, human in appearance, dancing as the snow fluttered from the sky, some of their bodies crimson with blood.

Taking a deep breath, Sam reached for the table and the precious supplies. He managed to snatch the box of anesthetics and get it on the bed without incident, that corner of the table was almost in the light of the fire. His movement had alerted the creatures, however and this time he knew it wouldn't be as easy. He reached for the first aid kit and felt something latch over his wrist, teeth digging deep into his flesh.

"NO!" he fought desperately to pull his arm away from the jaws of the DNMR. "Dean!"

"Got it! Move your head," Dean said from behind him.

Sam obeyed without question. Soft flickering light chased the shadow off his arm, the creature whimpered and released its hold enough for Sam to yank his hand—and the first aid kit—back to the safety of the bed.

_To Be Continued_


	23. The Eve of Christmas Eve

A/_N: Advent Day Twenty-Three. Sorry I'm a little late. And about that lump of coal..._

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**The Eve of Christmas Eve**

The heat from the flames warmed Dean's back as he stared out at the creatures filling the room. He swiped the small branch he'd broken off the Yule log at them and they stepped back a little further, still circling the room, but staying well clear of the light from the fire. Once he was sure they were going to leave them alone he turned his glare on his brother. "Sam," he began, then saw the look on Sam's face as he clutched his bleeding wrist and the first aid kit. "Good job."

"That is not what you were going to say," Sam said with a smile.

"Maybe it was."

"Uh huh." His brother carefully pulled the fabric back from the bite wound. "It's not as bad as I thought."

"It's bad enough," Dean grumbled. "That was stupid."

"You would have done the same thing."

"I rest my point." Dean shifted so he was propped half against the massive stones of the fireplace. The throbbing pain in his side was getting worse, much worse. "Let me see." He held out his hand and Sam obediently offered him the injured arm. Dean inspected it. Sam was right, it was bad, but not as bad as it could have been, all things considered. They were Winchesters after all, his brother was probably lucky his hand was still attached to his wrist.

"At least it's still attached."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" Sam grinned at him. "I can take care of it."

"Oh, no. This is my job."

"Dean..." Sam looked at him then huffed out a breath. "Right, your job. Sorry." He handed him the antiseptic and some bandages.

"It won't stop bleeding," Dean said as he cleaned the wound.

"Maybe they have something in their saliva? To help with the blood sacrifices?" Sam peered at the wound curiously.

"That would be..." Dean sighed. "Just our luck."

"Superglue?" his brother asked as he watched Dean dig through the first aid kit.

"I think there's too much for that, and they are more punctures, so no stitches." Dean looked up at him. "I'll bind it and see what happens."

"Okay."

Dean wrapped the wound, watching the bandages start to fill with blood before he was even finished. He was beginning to get a really bad feeling about this, there'd been hope that at least his brother would make it out, but he was starting to think they were both going to die here. Not a nice Christmas. Of course, he hadn't really planned on being in the middle of _Clash of the Titans _or whatever this was for the holiday either. They weren't really big on celebrating, but they were close enough to Bobby's to stop by and maybe scam a little mince meat pie and turkey. There was a small gift for Sam in the Impala, he knew his brother had one for him. It was never a big deal, never mentioned, just a small package on the table on Christmas morning. If they were at Bobby's they got a holiday meal, and the older hunter could make a great mince pie. He made his own mince meat and had it aging, waiting for Christmas...

"Dean!" Sam shook him gently. "Hey."

"What?"

"Are you with me?"

Dean blinked, he was lying on the bed, the fire warming his side. "What happened?"

"You passed out," Sam said, the full squinch on his face, so tight it was pulling the edges of his hairline down.

"I did not."

Sam raised his eyebrows at him. "You didn't?"

"No."

"So what happened?" his brother asked casually, the muscles in his shoulders tight, panic still written on his face and whispering in his voice.

"Face planting on the wound is an old folk cure."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot that one. Helps the wounded when they pass out from the pain by saving money on anesthetics and pain medication."

"Yeah, that's the one." Dean frowned at his brother. "Wait, pass out from the pain? Sammy?"

Sam put a hand on his chest and pushed him flat. "I didn't, I'm okay, it's not bleeding as bad either." He held up his wrist and showed the saturated bandage.

"Not bad?"

"It's not dripping."

"Comforting."

"Yeah."

"Not," Dean grumbled, glancing out into the cabin. He had no idea how all the creatures that were there could even be there. The room just didn't seem big enough. The mass of fur lurking at the back should have taken up at least half the area, but it was almost as if the DNMRs could pass through it as they swarmed around, sniffing along the walls and climbing on the cabinets, always being careful to stay away from the circle of light from the fire. The trolls had set up camp just outside the door, it looked like they were playing a game of chance with—Dean squinted then wished he hadn't—finger bones. The dancers had built a fire of their own, he didn't want to know what they were burning, and their movements were becoming frenzied.

"Huh."

"I agree," Sam said.

"Agree with what?" Dean focused back on his brother.

"They're waiting for something, preparing."

"I thought Solstice was the biggie."

Sam shrugged, _that _shrug, the one that inevitably spelled trouble and doom.

"What?" Dean snapped.

"What what?"

"I know that look, Sammy. That's the, 'well we missed the tree but oops there's a cliff' look."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "December twenty-fifth wasn't pulled out of a hat."

"Yeah." Dean thought about that for a second. "Oh great."

_To Be Continued_


	24. When All Else Fails Have Cocoa

_A/N: Advent Day Twenty-Four. Merry Christmas Eve all. _

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**When All Else Fails Have Cocoa**

The demonic naked mole rats were getting bored, Sam could tell. They had stopped buzzing around the interiors and had started pawing open cupboards, sniffing in his bag, tearing open the closets and racing in and out of the door. Somewhere along the way, Sam had lost all track of time. Although he was pretty sure it must be Christmas Eve by now. He figured mentioning to his brother that he actually had passed out for a bit while Dean was unconscious would just garner him a lecture, so he was letting it slide.

"Uh huh," Dean said, Sam glanced at his brother. Dean was looking from his watch to Sam and back.

"What's that?"

"It's the twenty-fourth."

"It is," Sam said calmly.

"Looks like we might have lost a day in there somewhere." Dean was giving him that older brother look, the one that said he knew Sam was not being completely up front with him, not quite sure what it was about, but it was there.

"I didn't. You did," Sam frowned at his brother, trying the full puppy look, the concern, the worry.

"Nuh uh, not buying it."

"What?"

"I know I was out, but..."

"What? No, I'm fine." Sam was watching the dancers outside the door, they were definitely getting ready for something. There were a number of choices. He couldn't recall a major sacrifice—a human one at least—being connected with _Sol Invictus _but just because the Romans didn't mention it, it didn't mean the gods didn't occasionally take it. The once every three or four hundred years of a major celestial event might be the hallmark that would make a difference.

"Hey!" Dean snapped. "Zoning out is not a way to make your case."

"I was wondering what they were getting ready for."

"So it was a standard geekboy zone out, not an 'I'm seriously injured and not mentioning it for some reason' zone out?"

"I didn't think I had to mention this," Sam said, holding up the bloody wrist. "It's a little hard to miss."

"Very funny, and the leg?"

"What leg?" Sam tried not to squirm, for some reason the question made the leg in question ache with a bone-deep pain. "Is your leg hurt?" He bent forward like he was going to check Dean's legs.

His brother smacked him on the back of the head. Sam sat up. "You are so busted, just admit it," Dean said.

"Fine."

"Well?"

"Well what? I admitted it."

"And?" Dean growled.

"I don't know. I haven't looked." Sam sighed. He hadn't wanted to look, that pain wasn't good and knowing what was there wouldn't help either of them.

"What? Why not?" Dean demanded.

A fight broke out among some of the creature, Sam heard bodies slamming against the walls, one came close and actually bounced off the ring of light around them.

"Why not?" Sam repeated, watching the creatures roll around.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Plausible deniability?"

Dean turned red, looking for a moment like he was going to explode, then he puffed out a laugh. "Not fair."

Sam grinned at him. "Yeah it is."

"Is not."

"Is so."

"Not."

"So."

"Are you going to be able to walk out of here, Sammy?"

"I'll get us out."

"I don't think _us_ is really a worry," his brother said, looking down at the bandages on his chest then up at Sam.

"It's both of us or not at all, Dean." He would get his brother out, or die trying. There was no option.

"Sam," Dean began, then sighed, nodding his understanding. "So, Christmas."

"Yes?"

"Tell me about it."

"I'm really not sure. The twenty-fifth was chosen because a number of festivals coincided with the day. I'm not quite sure why I have _Sol Invictus _stuck in my head, it just keeps coming back, maybe because of the eclipse."

"Just a feeling?"

"Yeah. I have no idea why it's that one that I keep thinking about, because there are lots of them. So many in fact that Constantine..." Sam grinned when Dean rolled his eyes. "It's why Christmas is the twenty-fifth as well."

"What's going to happen?"

"We might become sacrifices."

"What about the Yule log?"

"It all gets confused on the twenty-fifth. Saint Nick comes down the chimney, where the Yule log is burning, sacrifices are left by the fire to appease him, people sacrifice animals and eat them that day... it's all confused."

"So we don't know. We might get cookies or..."

"We might get our throats cut like the Bull of Mithras," Sam finished.

"Let's have some cocoa then." Dean dug in the first aid kit and pulled out two packets of hot chocolate, part of their emergency supplies. "Merry Christmas Eve, Sammy."

Sam took the packets and poured them into their cups, adding water and stirring, "Merry Christmas Eve, Dean."

Outside, the world began to tremble.

_To Be Continued_


	25. On Christmas Day

_A/N: Merry Christmas all! So, here is a little present I have been hiding for you. After all, this is hurt/comfort, and some might say we were lacking a little on the latter... So...As you all know it might be the last day of the advent calendar, but its the first of twelve days. No Partridges in pear trees, but Winchesters galore... I give you_

_Advent Day Twenty-Five_

_Christmas Day One_

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**On Christmas Day**

Dean sipped his cocoa and watched the light from the fire flicker on the hearth. He noticed a glow growing outside as the cabin started to rattle in sympathy with the trembling of the earth. Somewhere in the back of his head, his internal clock had reset and he knew it was getting close to the twenty-fifth, Christmas, _Sol Invictus _or whatever was coming. From the look on his brother's face, Sam didn't know what to expect either. If the gods wanted a sacrifice, he wondered if he could head them off at the pass and give himself up. Something was niggling at the back of his head about that, he wasn't sure what, but there was something. _Huh. What is it? _

Sam's sharp intake of breath pulled his attention back to what was happening. Dean looked at his brother who had somehow managed to get paler. _Not good. _Dean glanced away from the fire, the room was full of creatures, most he'd never seen before—and never hoped to see again. It was what was happening outside that caused his heart to speed up, however. "Is that...?" he whispered.

"I don't know," Sam replied.

The dancers' frenzied steps were circling the fire they'd built and in the center of the fire the glow was getting brighter. It was in that glow that something was forming. Dean swallowed, trying to think of words to describe it. He watched for as long as he could, then looked away.

Dean made a decision.

There was no was in hell—or wherever that was from—he was letting it get close to Sam. He set his cup down on the flagstones of the hearth. Once he was out of the safety of the light of the fire, maybe his brother would let him go._ Yeah, because that would happen. _Dean sighed. If he hit Sam, he might hurt himself and not be able to get off the bed and out of the room before his brother was aware enough to stop him.

He'd just have to make a break for it and hope Sam had enough sense to let it happen, to understand Dean was doing it for him. The wound was getting to the point that Dean knew if it wasn't treated soon he was a dead man anyway, this way maybe he could save his brother. He closed his eyes, breathing deep, pushing the pain away so he could get up and move fast enough for his plan to work. _Forgive me some day, Sammy, Merry Christmas. _Steadying himself, Dean tensed his muscled and sprang off the bed, diving into the middle of the room without a second thought.

He ran into a solid wall of flesh.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam demanded, glaring at him.

"What does it look like?" Dean growled as he realized Sam hadn't been trying to stop him, his brother had been moving towards the door as well. Dean had collided with him in his desperate move.

"No way."

"I thought of it first, I'm closer to the door," Dean snapped, pointing at the floor, indicating their relative positions.

"I thought of it first, you ran into me."

"No, you ran into me, besides, I'm older, if anyone is getting sacrificed it's me."

Sam stepped towards him, doing that looming thing he did sometimes. His brother wasn't _that_ much taller but sometimes he did that thing that made him seem feet taller. "I'm bigger."

"I'm faster."

"Not right now."

"Sammy," Dean said desperately. "I..." He never got a chance to finish. Something picked him up and started carrying him towards the door. "SAM!" he shouted, seeing the huge creature from the corner grab his brother as easily as if he were a tiny kitten.

"Dean!"

They were both hauled out into the snow, some of the creatures from the cabin filing out, other things coming out of the woods to circle the fire where the glow was subsiding and the thing in the center was completely formed. Dean closed his eyes, hoping, like Indiana Jones, it would help to not look at it. When he was dropped into the snow, he slid his hand out until it came into contact with his brother, he felt Sam's hand grasp his arm.

"Sorry," Dean said softly.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," his brother replied.

Dean could hear something approaching, with the sound came a smell, less than pleasant, that made him gag. He held his breath as it got closer and a hand closed over his chin, moving his face so the wind blew across it in an icy blast. The hand let go and there was a hard probing at the wound in his side, the snuffling of a creature scenting its kill. The pressure continued until he was close to screaming in agony. Dean's heart was hammering in his chest as it left him and moved away—he knew without looking it was examining Sam, his brother's grip on his arm tightened convulsively and he heard Sam's grunt of pain. Several long seconds later he heard the thing moving away and he knew the moment of sacrifice was there. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew.

"Sam..."

"Yeah, me too."

Dean braced himself as footsteps approached and an almost human hand pressed down on his chest, there was the touch of ice cold metal. The blade began to cut, he felt his blood running hot over his skin. It stopped and the hand ran down his body.

"Wait!" a voice hissed. "Check that one, this one is poisoned."

There was a pause, then without warning, there was a huge pressure on the wound in his side. Dean couldn't stop the scream. He thought he heard his brother shout his name, before he heard a similar cry of agony from Sam. The torture ceased and he lay panting in the snow, trembling, hanging on to Sam like a drowning man as the sounds around him began to increase. He was aware, barely, of movement, things were stepping on him, over him, a foot caught him in the face. The sounds reached a frenzied point and he heard voices screaming in pain—human voices. He was far enough out of it to wonder for a moment if it was him he heard screaming. Whatever was happening became more and more intense until his body was shaking with it, the whole world was trembling. There was a bright light against his eyelids as the sound, the movement finally exploded.

Everything was silent.

Soft flakes of snow fell against his face, collecting on his cheeks and eyelashes. His back was cold to the point of pain and something was running over his neck, warm at first then cooling as it moved over his shoulder. The smell was gone too, now there was just that fresh scent that was snow. Dean couldn't describe it, but snow smelled like snow. Once years before, they'd stayed in a motel with the kind of freezer you had to defrost and the ice in it had smelled a little like snow. Dean drifted on that memory, making "snowballs" with Sam in the middle of a July heatwave. _Sam. _

"Sammy?" he groaned. No answer, but then, he hadn't heard his own voice. "Sam?" There, that time he heard it.

"Dean!" Sam answered.

"You okay?"

His brother laughed. "You?"

Dean laughed too. It hurt. God it hurt, but he couldn't help it. The laughter bubbled out of him like the blood from the wound in his throat. "We must suck as sacrifices," he croaked as he laughed.

"Yeah." Sam's laughter was louder too. "We're going to die out here."

"You don't think we'll get a Christmas miracle?" Dean still had a hold on Sam.

"No," his brother said. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

There was a crashing in the trees, something was running towards them full out, pounding steps echoing through the forest.

"Maybe we don't suck as sacrifices after all," Sam offered, laughing again.

"Comforting," Dean replied, joining him. Things were beginning to fade, the cold at his back was getting warm, which he knew was a bad sign.

Whatever was coming was close. It stopped between them, panting. "I bust my balls to get here, and you two idjits are laughing?"

_To Be Continued_


	26. The Real Meaning of Boxing Day

_A/N Christmas Day Two _

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**The Real Meaning of Boxing Day**

The snow was drifting down on his face, melting in his hair and dripping in his ear. Sam was sure that's what was causing the hallucination. It had to be a figment of his imagination. He laughed again, and heard Dean echo the laugh.

"Damn it!" his hallucination grumbled, apparently not amused.

Sam opened his eyes—and found Bobby staring down at him, concern on the older hunter's face. The laughter died in his throat. "Bobby?" he tried to push himself up. "Help Dean."

"No, help Sam," Dean said.

"Dean."

"Sam."

"Dean."

"Sam."

"Would you two idjits shut up? Dean first. Don't make that face at me, boy." Bobby dropped to his knees between them. "What the hell happened to him?"

"Wendigo," Sam said, rolling over on his side to get a look at his brother.

"I'm fine."

"Fine. Right." Bobby was looking a little green.

Sam was watching his brother, something was wrong. "Dean?"

"Sor...Sm..." Dean's eyes closed.

"Dean!" He moved wrong, whatever he did wrenched something deep inside and it hurt, it hurt enough to send a shaft of pain straight into his brain—everything went white, then black.

When the darkness began to clear away, he felt like he was wrapped in soft cotton, cushioned and warm. There was a comforting sound in the distance, a soft beeping that his brain equated with life. A little more awareness and he knew it was a monitor keeping track of his life, but at that moment Sam didn't care. _They must have me on morphine or something. _

"How's he doing?" Bobby asked, from the gruff tone, Sam guessed he was worried.

"He is resting comfortably," a male voice answered.

"That's doesn't really tell me a lot," the older hunter grumbled.

"Bobby?" Sam opened his eyes, Bobby was standing by the door, talking to a man in scrubs, they both looked over at him, Bobby with a smile, the other with something close to shock.

"Sam!"

"Where's Dean?"

"How do you feel?"

"Where's Dean?" Sam repeated, wondering if he'd actually spoken.

The other man walked over. "How is your pain?"

Sam looked at him. "Not bad."

"On a scale of one to ten?"

"Three," he snapped. "Where's Dean, Bobby?"

"They saved your leg, Sam," Bobby said quickly. "And if he said three, my guess is about seven or eight, doc."

"Is that true?" the doctor asked.

"I'm okay. Where's Dean?" Sam heard the monitor starting to beep with a little more agitation.

The older hunter looked at the doctor with a frown. "Sam, you need to calm down."

"Bobby, where's Dean?" Sam said desperately.

The doctor had a syringe in his hand.

"I told you this wasn't a good idea." Bobby noticed what the doctor was doing. "He's in ICU, Sam, next floor down."

The rush of the drugs hit him hard. "He'll make it?" Sam mumbled as everything started to disappear.

"Sam..." Bobby's answer was lost in the dark.

He was determined not to let the drug hold him for long. Sam struggled against it and forced himself out of the comforting sleep it offered as soon as he had the tiniest shred of control. There was something about what Bobby had said that was worrying, he had no idea what had set the alarm bells off, but he needed to get to his brother. Of course, whatever they had given him was designed to keep him down. Sam got one eye open, then the other, the ceiling swam into focus, and if it was moving a little, he ignored it.

He had to get to Dean.

The trick was getting there before anyone really protested, or he collapsed. Sam was eyeing the monitor leads, wondering the best way to get them off when he heard something at the door.

"You're awake," Bobby said.

"Yeah."

"You're not supposed to be."

"Yeah."

"Planning on going somewhere?"

"Bobby..."

"You know, they'd be in here in a minute, and you really have no way of getting all the way down to ICU with that leg."

"My leg?" Sam asked, confused.

"Not to mention, drugged to the eyeballs. Yes, your leg."

Sam felt the bandages under his hand. "My leg?" Memory crept back. "Oh, how bad was it?"

"You still have it."

"Good." He looked over Bobby and noticed the man was pushing a wheelchair. "Bobby?"

"It was this or find you face down in the hallway and have to call the nurse," he grumbled as he pushed the chair over. "I'll get you there and back, and you will behave."

"Thanks."

"You'll behave, right?" Bobby unhooked the monitor leads and lifted the IV bag off the pole and attached it to the one on the chair. "It's Boxing Day."

"Huh?" Sam asked. _A little too random._

"I'll box your ears if you don't behave," Bobby said.

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but decided to let it go. Bobby rolled him to the door, checked the corridor and headed for the elevator. After a wait of what felt like hours, the doors opened. By the time they reached the ICU, Sam was feeling a little more alert, even though the pain killers still had him feeling distanced from reality.

That all changed when Bobby pushed him through a curtained doorway.

"Oh god," Sam whispered.

_To Be Continued_


	27. On the Third Day of Christmas

_A/N: Christmas Day Three. You didn't really think it would be that easy, did you?_

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

**On the Third Day of Christmas**

When Dean was seventeen they'd spent Christmas at a haunted ski resort. While John and Bobby hunted, him and Sam had wandered through the buildings making Scooby Doo jokes and searching for Daphne. Dean had generously allowed that Sammy could have Velma and his brother had kindly dumped about half the mountain worth of snow down his shirt. Despite the fact they'd both ended up injured by the spirit, it had been a good Christmas. They hadn't gotten around to celebrating until three days after, but they'd shared canned chili and cocoa and exchanged homemade gifts under a tree Bobby had brought in from the slopes. The high dose of pain meds they'd given him probably helped, but Dean remembered it as one of the best Christmases ever.

_Huh. _Thinking about it, they seemed to spend more time sick, injured or close to worse at the holidays. There must actually be something in the air at that time of year. He'd been tracking it for years, wondering if he could figure it out and in turn figure out a way to keep Sam safe. _It would be nice to avoid a few stitches myself. _ Things, all kinds of them, seemed to ooze out of the woodwork in time for the holidays. Dean had no doubt Scrooge had been bothered by ghosts, he was probably lucky it wasn't something worse. Of course it took a special kind of luck to stumble onto a supernatural hot spot on the supernaturally hottest day in centuries. And toss in the wendigo brothers and the...

Something pinged in the back of his head. It pinged again with more urgency.

_Sam!_

Dean tried to open his eyes, only to find his body refused to respond. That sent a jolt of panic buzzing through him and he fought to get them open, to move his hand, to do anything. Sheer terror sent waves of adrenaline pounding through his system, he couldn't move, couldn't see, he was trapped. Buried alive? Had something happened and he'd been buried alive? Dean remembered reading that avalanche victims sometimes dug themselves deeper because they had no sense of up and down once they were buried. He couldn't breathe. _No, someone, help, please. _His mind screamed, but all he heard was a grunt, a muted grunt. _No, god, no, please, no. _He was going to die. _Not like this, not like this ..._

"Dean."

The soft voice didn't quite break through the panic screaming in his brain and along every nerve in his body, but it registered somewhere.

"Dean." That time he heard it, actually heard it. Sam. "It's okay." It sounded like his brother was miles away, but he could hear him, that was something. Dean tried to get a handle on his panic, it was still out of control. "Hey, man." Sam's hand felt cool against his skin, but he knew it was his brother's hand. "It's okay, you're in ICU."

Dean relaxed. If Sam said it was okay, it was okay. ICU sucked, but it was better than being buried alive. He let his awareness slip away back into nothingness.

**X X X**

Sam kept his hand on Dean's arm until the heart monitor stopped its frantic action. As soon as Bobby had said Dean was here, Sam had known what to expect. His brother never did well in restraints and the sedation that accompanied the vent. He didn't really expect anyone to give him the whole story on Dean's situation yet, especially since he was technically an escapee from his room. Bobby knew, Sam could tell from the grim look on the older man's face. It wasn't good, whatever was going on.

"We should go," Bobby said quietly.

"Not yet," Sam pleaded.

"The nurse will make rounds in another eight minutes, we have to be out of here before then, Sam."

"I need to stay with him."

"Sam..."

"I know," Sam said, sighing. "You'll bring me back?"

"No. I just brought you down here so you knew he was alive."

"I need to come back later."

"Sam, your damn leg..."

"Bobby, I need to..." He looked at the hunter, begging him with his eyes.

"Turn that off!" Bobby snapped. "Fine, I'll bring you back, just don't ever do that to me again."

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam turned back to his brother. "I'll be back, Dean." He heard Bobby grumble under his breath. "Just hang on, okay?"

"We've got to go."

Sam gave Dean's arm a squeeze and nodded to Bobby. They made it out just in time, a nurse wearing Winne the Pooh scrubs was headed towards the room as they reached the elevator. Sam was back in his room and in bed a few minutes before a tall man in scrubs came in with a clipboard and took his vitals. Sam gave the guy his best innocent look. Shaking his head, the man left and came back with a different blood pressure cuff. He changed out the one on Sam's arm, checked everything again and left with a frown on his face.

"I don't think he likes what he sees," Bobby muttered.

"No," Sam said, leaning back and closing his eyes. He was exhausted and his leg ached. "Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened to my leg?"

"You don't know?" Bobby sounded shocked.

"It got hurt, but it wasn't like this, I don't think." He frowned, trying to remember, things got a little fuzzy after getting dragged out to the fire where the gods were rising. "Something happened, I tried to get to Dean, there was this thing there..."

"Thing?"

"I don't know what it was. It stopped me, that was right before Dean started screaming. They slit his throat, Bobby."

"They slit yours too."

"Yeah, they did," Sam answered thoughtfully, trying to remember everything that had happened. "They rejected Dean as a sacrifice."

"They did?"

Sam buzzed the nurse. "The infected wound, he was blemished."

"Right, the sacrifice has to be pure."

"Can I help you?" the nurse asked.

"Um..." Sam glanced at Bobby.

"Do you need something more for pain?" she said, smiling at him. "It's okay to ask."

"I know," Sam replied, the memory of Dean telling him that still fresh in his mind. "Yes, I do."

"I'll be right back," she said, walking out. She was back less than three minutes later. Sam watched the seconds tick by on the big clock on the wall opposite the bed, the throbbing ache in his leg getting worse with each _snick _of the second hand. "Here you go."

Sam sighed in relief, the drug hitting him fast, his eyes started to drift closed. "Bobby..."

"Yeah?" the older hunter was focused on something in the hall.

"Is Dean dying?"

"I don't know, Sam."

Tears burned in his eyes, Sam swallowed. "You can tell me the truth." Blinking was getting hard, Sam wondered what the nurse had given him.

"That is the truth." Bobby patted his arm with a calloused hand, still focused on the hallway.

"What?" Even through the haze of the drug, Sam sensed something was wrong.

"Don't know. Wait here."

"Funny."

Sam lifted his head off the bed, trying to see where Bobby was going, but the room spun and he quickly closed his eyes, letting his head drop back on the pillow.

An alarm started blaring.

Bobby's agitated voice was getting louder, angry words carrying over the alarm. Sam couldn't make out any of them until five came through loud and clear. "What do you mean missing?"

_To Be Continued_


	28. Four Colly Birds

_A/N: Christmas Day Four. Sorry I'm late, but on the up side, you get another chapter today, and well, I'm not saying you might want one, but... _

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

**Four Colly Birds**

The heavy feeling of drugs was beginning to wear off, and Sam pushed them away as quickly as he could. Somewhere locked in the fuzz was the word "missing" and he knew it had to do with his brother. He could hear sound that he usually didn't associate with a hospital in the background, and they were enough to help get him all the way awake. Opening his eyes, he stared up at the ceiling before looking around the room, oddly the door was closed tight. Sam fumbled for the nurse call button. He pressed it and heard the answering beep. No one came.

"Hello?" he called, loud enough for his voice to carry beyond the closed door. "Bobby?" When no one answered, he sat up, waiting for the room to stop spinning, then pulled the monitor lead off his body. There was a wheelchair beside the bed, and looking down at his heavily bandaged leg, he knew he had to use it to get out of the room. He swung his legs off the bed and hooked the wheelchair with a toe and dragged it over. The wheels were locked, so it was hard to get it to move, but he managed and, taking a deep breath, managed to get into it.

He rolled to the door and opened it a crack, getting a glimpse of the hallway before going out. It was empty. _Empty? _Sam eased cautiously into the corridor. _Why would it be empty? _All the doors to the patients' rooms were closed tight, the place was obviously on lockdown. He looked around and spotted a supply cabinet just to his right. Rolling over to it, noticed the lock, but tried the drawers anyway. It was unlocked. _That just added to the worry. _He opened the drawers, looking for something that could be a weapon, suspecting he might need one, and finally settled on a scalpel and a pair of scissors. There might be a fire axe somewhere, but he needed something just in...

Sam stopped as he came around the corner of the nurses' station.

He had no idea who it was, they had been tall judging by the leg and large hand that were laying there. There was a giant pool of blood that was much too large to have come from only one person. There were marks on the edge of the wood counter that looked like they'd been made by claws. Sam moved away from the carnage towards the elevators, even though he knew they weren't the best choice in a disaster—and he was guessing this was a disaster—the stairs weren't an option for him at this point. There were no obvious Bobby body parts, so he was hoping the older hunter was with Dean. Sam's door had been closed and he knew that Bobby would have assessed the situation and wouldn't have left him without a very good reason.

As soon as the elevators doors opened, Sam checked the small box and rolled in, quickly punching the button for the floor for ICU, then the doors' close button. He kept his eyes glued on the service opening in the ceiling. Something with big claws was loose on at least one floor, and Sam didn't want it catching him alone with no place to run. He had almost worked himself into a panic attack by the time the doors slid open at the ICU. He quickly rolled out.

The floor was silent, the doors between the wards closed. Sam headed towards the ones that he knew led back to where Dean had been. There was a large red button for access, Sam pushed it, but nothing happened. He pushed it again for good measure, but the doors refused to budge. He had to find another way. He turned the chair around and started looking for another way in. There was a body, or parts of one, around the corner from the elevator. Sam was going around it when he spotted a hospital ID card. He picked it up, wiped the blood off and went back to the door, swiping the strip through the security pad. The lock clicked and Sam opened the door.

"Get out!" a woman screamed. It was a good thing he was in a wheelchair. Something flew over his head and slammed into the wall above him.

"Hey!" Sam held his hands up in surrender. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Who are you?" she asked from behind the nurses' station.

"My name is Sam Dickinson, my brother Dean is in room four."

"Oh!" She peeked around the corner. "Oh!"

"How is my brother?"

"I don't know, I just got in here about half an hour ago."

"And you didn't check?" Sam growled.

"With what's happening?" she said, tears on her face. "I just got on duty."

Sam took a deep breath. "Can we check now?" Without waiting for an answer, he rolled into Dean's room. His brother's eyes were open, the sedation must be starting to wear off. "Dean!" His brother focused on him, one hand pulling against the restraints. "Can he get off the vent? Is it safe?"

"I don't know."

"Is it better for him to be on it, or be potentially mobile?" Sam snapped, still not knowing what was going on. His brother frowned, trying to communicate something. "Get it out."

"Sir."

"Do it."

She looked at him then nodded. Sam undid the restraint and held his brother's hand. Just because something was going on they didn't understand was no reason to alter standard Winchester operating procedure. Dean grasped his hand, and the vent was out.

"Sam," Dean whispered, his voice harsh. "You okay?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah."

Dean smiled as the nurse did nurse things. "I heard Bobby?"

"He's here."

"We're going to need him, I saw one, but I heard there are three more." Dean's words were actually indistinct but Sam understood them.

"So there are four? Four what?"

Dean looked at him, his face pale. "I just got a glance."

"Dean."

"It looked like..."

"They were black," the nurse said.

Dean nodded. "I think they're part of what was going on."

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but stopped when he heard a noise outside the window. He glanced at Dean, then rolled over to look out. It was big, it was black, it had wings. The nurse came over and looked out, then stepped back with a little squeak. "That's what's loose in here?"

"Yes."

"Four of them?" Sam said, surprised at how calm he sounded. _But really, when faced with that, where else can you go but calm?_

_To Be Continued_


	29. Outside But Inside and Across the Hall

_A/N: Christmas Day Five (It's a clue!)_

_A/N II: I kind of based Sam and Dean's conversation on an event right after my mom was out of ICU when she had her stroke. We had a long conversation, I knew what she was saying and answered her just fine, but everyone else just heard mumbles and stray words. I figured it would be the same for the boys._

_A/N III: A couple of people mentioned my last chapter title, pointing out it's "calling" birds-actually the original song is colly (or collie)-meaning black-birds. _

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

**Outside But Inside and Across the Hall**

The room had a strange smell, although Dean wasn't sure if it was actually the room or a side effect of something he'd been given. A muted scream echoed in the room, it sounded like it came from above them. At first it did, the sound continued until it passed the window and dropped, cut off abruptly about a second after it fell beyond his room. Dean looked at his brother, Sam turned and met his eyes, then looked back out the window for a moment. _Oh, it's bad, that level of calm is epic bad. _

He needed the confirmation, when he'd seen the thing as it swooped through the ward, he'd been sedated, and assumed it was combination of fever and drugs. The creature had missed his room, distracted by a doctor doing rounds, and then disappeared, screams filling the room after it left.

Bobby had run in shortly there after, a bloody axe in his hands. The older hunter had mumbled something about hospital staff being idjits, told him to stay there, then said he was going for Sam. That was the last Dean had seen of anyone. A few moments later they'd slammed the door closed on his room and he'd been trapped, the sedation slowly releasing him from its hold, his body fighting the vent and his hands restrained.

When the door opened his heart had stopped for a moment, knowing something was out there, and he was trapped, his body wounded even if he wasn't restrained. Then Sam had been there and relief flooded his body, sending his heart racing in the opposite direction.

"We can't stay here," Sam said, snapping him out of his reverie.

"What?" Dean watched his brother move from the window back to the bed.

"The window, it's huge and one of those things is outside."

"Will someone see?" His brief spurt of energy was already waning.

"No, it's outside but inside," Sam said, still staring at the window.

"Try again."

"There is a courtyard with a waterfall about four floors down. The building is built around that."

"Right." Dean understood what Sam was talking about. "We need to get out of here."

"Yeah."

The nurse was staring at them. Dean wondered if he was actually speaking or if Sam was interpreting his mumbling correctly. Sometimes he didn't know until his brother wasn't around. Several months before he'd been injured and he and Sam had been talking and it was fine—until Sam had to leave at the end of visiting hours and no one knew what he was saying until Sam came back.

"Some place we can defend, a wall at our backs," Dean continued. Judging by the frown on the nurse's face he was mumbling.

"Yeah, Bobby will find us."

"If he's alive, Sam," Dean said softly. He'd seen what was out there and he was frantic that Bobby hadn't returned.

"I know." Sam was frowning at him.

"Moving me is better than the alternative."

"Is there a room close by without a window? One that has a door?" Sam asked the nurse.

"Sure, room twelve, across the hall."

"Is someone in it?"

"Not anymore," she said, looking sick.

"Can you move the bed?"

"I'm not staying in bed," Dean snapped.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes."

"No."

"There are monsters out there!" the nurse screamed. They both looked at her. "Do something!"

"The guy in the wheelchair and the dying guy in the ICU bed?" Dean said. She made a funny face like she didn't have a clue, but Sam growled. "What?"

"We need to go," Sam said, glancing at the window. "Now."

Without waiting for Dean or the nurse to protest, he rolled to the door and opened it. A moment later he motioned for them to follow. Dean watched as the ceiling started to move, feeling helpless and vulnerable. They moved out into the central area of the ward, he could smell fresh blood, and glanced to his left, then wished he hadn't. There was a pool of blood in the corner. He looked the other way, trying to spot a way out if things got bad. There were two sets of doors, one on his left by the blood the other on his right. Both sets were closed.

"Wait. Get whatever drugs we might need for Dean and anyone else. Our friend is out there and he'll bring survivors here," Sam said with certainty. "Do it!" Sam snapped when she hesitated. Dean rolled his head to look at his brother in surprise.

The tone inspired her to move. Dean heard her moving something, then she was back and the bed was in motion again. A moment later he was in the room. Sam closed the door, Dean heard a lock click in place. Pain was beginning to make itself known, Dean could feel the throb deep in his body. Things weren't good.

"Sammy?"

"Right here," his brother answered.

"Why are they here?"

"Looking for a sacrifice?" Sam said.

"Yeah. What kind, how many?"

"I don't know, I thought it was over on..." Sam trailed off. Dean could see the gears turning.

"What? I know that look, Sam."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I do." Dean sighed. "All too well, we've hit crossing the beams bad."

"I think we've actually passed it," Sam said, squinching at him.

"Oh, awesome."

_To Be Continued_


	30. Six DNMRs A Playing

_A/N: Christmas Day Six_

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Thirty**

**Six DNMRs A-Playing**

The room was quiet, everything was quiet. Sam pressed his ear against the door, listening, there was nothing moving outside the room—at least for the moment. He half-wished there was a small window looking out into the central area of the ward, but it was only a fleeting wish. Windows could be broken by the whatever-they-were, and he wasn't going to take any chances. He was trying to ignore Dean's comment about dying, but the words were repeating themselves in his head, each repetition getting louder until it was a scream somewhere in his frontal lobe. Sam took a deep breath and turned around.

"Well?" Dean asked.

"It's quiet."

"Good quiet or 'too quiet'?"

"Too quiet, I think," Sam said, looking around the room, wishing they had something to defend themselves with. _Of course, I'm not sure what we're facing. _They needed to find Bobby, too. In the background, in an odd counterpoint to their situation, the piped in music was still playing and Bing Crosby was singing "White Christmas". Sam sighed, some day they would have a normal Christmas.

"Yeah," Dean said, answering something.

"What?"

His brother blinked at him. "What?"

"Are the monsters going to come back?" the nurse squeaked.

"I don't know." He needed to find out what they were before he could even answer that question. Maybe then he could figure out why they were here. He suspected they were somehow tied to what had happened in the woods and the collision of celestial events. The assumption it would be over on Christmas was obviously wrong, so then what? Sam huffed in frustration, longing for his computer. Something else had to be coming up, something related to the gods.

"How's your pain?"

"What?" Sam opened his eyes, not sure when he'd closed them.

"How is your pain?" The nurse was in front of him, fear still in her eyes, but a professional smile on her face. Sam glanced at her name badge and smiled, wondering if Dean had noticed she was a Heather.

"What?"

"On a scale of one to ten?" she said, moving his hand aside and examining his leg.

"Four?"

"Tell me the truth, Sam," she said kindly, but firmly.

"Seven?"

"That's better." She walked over to the cart she'd pushed into the room and opened it.

"I don't want something that's going to put me to sleep."

"I'll start off with a half dose, how's that?"

"Thank you."

"Good boy, Sammy," Dean mumbled.

"Dean?"

"I gave him something too," she said as she gave him the dose.

The drugs worked quickly, the throb in his leg backing off. He sighed as the tension in his back relaxed and realized Heather was entering something in a computer. "Does that have internet?"

"Yeah?" Heather said.

"I need to use it." He rolled over and waited. She seemed to be debating it, and he was about to say something when she stepped away.

As soon as the internet was up, he missed his mass of bookmarks, but he hit Google and started scrolling through information. He could hear Dean humming along with the Christmas music as he surfed. Now that he had an idea of what to look for, there was a lot there. The Christmas event had been building for awhile. The aurora borealis had been visible in August in Seattle, two comets, several conjunctions. He swallowed when he realized there was a meteor shower and a partial solar eclipse coming up on the fourth. The eclipse wasn't visible in North America, but... Something big was still coming. The meteor shower actually went through the fifth.

The fifth. _Huh. _What was it about the fifth? Sam stared at the screen, feeling a little stupid. The pain meds might be affecting him a little more than he thought. He listened to Dean's rendition of the carol that was playing as he searched through several more sites, that day still pinging around in his head. Suddenly, his brother's song and the information clicked. It was so simple he probably blushed, but knowing still didn't tell him what was out there or what they wanted—or how to stop them.

"What'd you find?" Dean asked.

"I think I know..." Sam trailed off, he thought he heard something.

"You think you know what?" Heather said, looking at him.

Sam ignored her, trying to figure out what the sound was. He rolled over to the door and held his breath.

"Sam?" Dean said softly.

He held his hand up, his brother was quiet and when the nurse started to speak, Dean shushed her. Sam unlocked the door and opened it a tiny bit.

The sudden pounding on one of the sets of doors into the ward nearly caused his heart to stop. "SAM! Open up!"

"Bobby!" Sam called. "Open the doors," he said to Heather. He headed towards the doors as she ran to the central island and hit a button. The lock clicked and they swung open. Bobby came in dragging someone with him, another man followed.

Bobby dropped his burden and turned back to the doors, pressing them closed even as they were still trying to open. "Help me!" the older hunter shouted to the room at large. The man with him was pushing on the doors too, Sam joined them. "Hurry!" Bobby was completely panicked and that was enough to make Sam push harder. Very little caused the older man to panic. A minute later he knew why.

The door to the stairs burst open, something shrieked and a swarm of demonic naked mole rats poured into the hall. 

_To Be Continued_


	31. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

_A/N: Christmas Day Seven. Happy New Year. Hugs to you all! _

_A/N II: I've realized something, in retail based America a lot of people have forgotten that the "Days of Christmas" come after, rather than before, Christmas Day and that it all ends on Epiphany. All? Did I say all? Would I end it ALL? Hmm..._

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Thirty-One**

**Guess Who's Coming To Dinner**

Dean heard the shouting in the hall and tried to get off the bed. His first attempt didn't go well, but the next was better and he managed to sit up and get his legs over the side of the bed. Whatever the nurse had given him was making him a little dizzy, but he needed to be out in the action. He stared at his hand, realizing he was attached to an IV pole. _Damn. _Dean slid the stop down on the drip, disconnected it from the line in his hand and cautiously put his feet on the floor. _Hey, my legs work. _He took a step, then another and was at the door in time to see Sam and Bobby desperately working to close the main doors against an onslaught of DNMRs.

They almost had the doors closed when one of the creatures slipped through. "Sam!" Dean glanced around, looking for a weapon. He grabbed one of the IV poles and used it as a support to move towards his brother and the DNMR. When he got close, he lowered the end and used it to shove the creature away from Sam.

"Dean!" Sam turned from the door as soon as it closed, a dull thumping coming from the other side. Dean could only assume it was the creatures throwing themselves against it.

"Little help here," Dean said, trying to pin the creature against the wall. It was strong, pushing back with more force than Dean could handle even if he wasn't injured.

"Bobby!" Sam shouted, grabbing the IV pole as well and pressing the DNMR into the wall.

"Hang on!" Bobby ran towards the creature, striking at it with the fire axe he was carrying. The first blow cut a deep wound in the thing's neck, it shrieked as the second blow severed its head. The body trembled then burst apart, spraying the area with a thick black fluid.

"Why are they always gross?" Dean complained, wiping the goo off his face.

"What the hell are those things?" Bobby demanded.

"Demonic naked mole rats?" he answered, leaning against Sam's wheelchair. Maybe racing to the rescue had been a bad idea.

"They're what?" The older man was looking at him in disbelief.

"Demonic naked..." The room was starting to flip-flop.

"Dean?" Sam said.

"I..." He put a hand on the arm of his brother's wheelchair, his arm gave way. Sam shouted, Bobby grabbed him, but things faded fast after that.

**X X X**

Sam woke from a light doze when something screamed. They'd been hearing more activity as New Year's approached. Once the panic from Dean's collapse had faded, he'd been back at the computer while Bobby and the other man—a doctor named Joshua—had gone out looking for more survivors. Sam didn't like the idea, but Bobby had been insistent, the fewer bodies for the things to eat, the more likely they were to leave. He couldn't argue with that reasoning and let them go. They'd been back twice, each time bringing people into the ward and tucking them into the rooms on the side with no windows. The two men had been joined by two nurses' assistants and Sam was anxiously waiting for their return from their latest foray.

His research was grim. Things were bad, they were going to get worse on New Year's as the old feast turned into a holy day was celebrated then it was downhill at high speed from there. Things hadn't been this celestially active for hundreds of years, and the last time it had been horrific before the final sacrifices were made. He was beginning to piece together a possible solution. They had to get through a few rough spots first. _Rough spots, I have to remember to tell Dean that one. _

Sam had finally succumbed to sleep and a dose of pain meds sometime after he'd read about the "Swallowing of the Village of the Dead". He suspected that someone had ordered a bigger dose of the meds than he'd been allowing—whether it was Bobby, Heather, Dean or Joshua he probably would never know.

Another scream brought him all the way to wakefulness. He was on a bed, tucked against the wall in Dean's room with no memory of how he'd gotten there. Sam opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment before turning to check on Dean. The steady beep of the heart monitor told him his brother was alive even before he checked. He wasn't expecting to see Dean awake and watching him.

"Hey," his brother said quietly.

"Hey," Sam said, sitting up. His leg felt better. It was healing. _How long has it been since it was injured? _

"Bobby was back about ten minutes ago. One of the flying things is up on the eighth floor."

"A colly bird."

"What?"

"It means black bird."

"Four colly birds?"

"Yeah."

"Like the song?" Dean asked.

"Just like the song."

"There is a lot of stuff in that song."

"Yeah."

"That's not good."

"No," Sam agreed.

Another scream filled the room.

"And Dean?"

"Oh no."

"What?"

"I know that tone, Sammy. Get it over with fast."

"Tomorrow."

"New Year's Day?"

"Yeah?"

Something shrieked, an otherworldly sound making the entire building shake.

"Oh, one of those days?"

"Yeah," Sam said.

"What about it?"

"The Octave."

"To blave? We have time to blave?"

Sam smiled. "No Max. The Octave."

"Okay."

"There is a religious feast on the first."

"So," Dean said, frowning in concentration. "It this one of those 'we added a thingie because there was already something going on' type of things?"

"I think so."

"A feast."

"Yeah."

"You think the colly birds and the DNMRs and the rest of the song are planning..."

"A feast?" Sam said. "Yeah."

"The blood bath kind?"

"Yeah."

There was another scream, then a steady thumping began. Sam head the doors slam open and closed—they'd fixed it so they no longer opened by themselves—and Bobby shouting for help. A few seconds later something began pounding on one set of doors, then the other.

"We're the feast, aren't we?" Dean asked with a sigh.

"Probably."

_To Be Continued_


	32. That's About Pheasants?

_A/N: Christmas Day Eight_

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

**That's About Pheasants? **

There was someone screaming in the ward, Sam heard Joshua barking directions and the others running to obey. They had set up one of the rooms to handle the incoming injured and Joshua had assigned one of the surviving doctors and two nurses to take care of triage and treatment. They had managed to save a lot of people—maybe not in the larger scheme of how many people the hospital employed, but Sam thought that the eighteen or maybe nineteen they had so far was a good start.

The feint against the doors had been ten hours before. For some reason the attack had stopped before midnight. Sam knew they would be back before the day was over, he was sure of it, but the few hours of relative quiet had given them a chance to rest and take care of the injured. Bobby and his "team" had gone out several more times, in fact they'd just returned from a trip down towards the parking garages.

Bobby came into the room and dropped heavily into the chair between the beds. "Two more," he said, grabbing a bottle of water from under Sam's bed.

"Good," Sam said, shifting in the bed. His leg was getting stronger. It still ached enough to let him know it was a very serious injury, but he knew it was healing. He had no way to explain how he knew, but he did. _Too many years without a doctor all the time, probably._

"The third floor is full of those things."

"DNMRs," Dean corrected.

"I am not calling them DNMRs," Bobby grumbled.

"If you have a better idea of what they are, speak up." Dean smirked at him. "Yeah, didn't think so."

"They're getting more active and two of the colly birds are hunting together down in the garages. The place has locked down and nothing's getting out, but on the down side, nothing's getting out." The older hunter sighed. "It's coming, whatever it is."

"Sam thinks it's soon."

"Sam?" Bobby turned to him.

"Today."

Bobby nodded. "Makes sense, it's a major feast day. Did you find anything else?"

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Not much. The last time something like this happened, most of the records were destroyed. Only small bits survive, mostly recorded as songs and Christmas Carols."

"And?" Dean asked.

"We are going to need to appease them."

"Them? Them who?" Bobby said.

"The gods."

"Which ones?" the older man asked.

"Oh, I know this one, we covered it before." Dean smiled. "All of them."

"There is no way all the gods are rising here, Sam," Bobby huffed.

"Just the Northern European ones."

"I thought we were in a hot spot out there," Dean complained.

"We were, Dean, but, according to the theorists, hot spots have hotter spots—like where we were—and then other areas of high activity. The thirty-third parallel has more UFO and other sightings than any other latitude on earth," Sam said, looking at his brother.

"So we're not hot, but pretty damn warm?"

"How far away from the cabin are we, Bobby? As the crow flies?" Sam asked.

"Five miles, give or take," Bobby said with a shrug.

"Not far enough." Dean nodded. "Like that was the door, but they were headed out from there."

"It makes sense," Sam agreed. "It's actually pretty common in the lore."

"Okay, how do we stop them? Have you found that?" Bobby asked.

"I'm not sure we can, there are too many. Appeasing them might be a better choice," Sam said hesitantly.

"Are you insane? That usually requires blood!"

"They've taken a lot of blood already, Bobby." Sam sat up and carefully swung his legs off the bed, letting them hang. Dean frowned at him and he scowled back.

"Then what?"

"The rest of the sacrifice. There are other things, there always were."

"Grain, alcohol, meat, sweets, jewels." Dean listed them off on his fingers, then he stopped and looked at Sam. "Gold, frankincense and myrrh?"

"Yeah, the other items. They might even be looking for them."

"Like the five gold rings?" Bobby asked.

"That actually refers to pheasants," Dean piped up.

"Pheasants."

"Yep." Dean sounded smug.

"I just told you that," Sam huffed, glaring at his brother.

"Yeah, but I told Bobby first, so I win."

"You don't win, I found the info."

"I told the info."

"Can we focus?" Bobby interrupted.

"So, we need the rest of the sacrifice, but what do we need?" Dean looked over. "Sammy?"

Sam slid off the bed, testing his leg as he slowly put weight on the limb. It hurt, but it would take his weight. He'd been worried. The wheelchair was faster, but if he needed to stand, he had to know he could. It was five steps to the computer, he limped carefully, then sat in the wheelchair. Most of his tabs were still open, so he started clicking on them, checking through the info again.

"They need blood and flesh, then like Dean said, grain, alcohol..." Sam clicked on a link. "And salt, gold, frankincense, myrrh and the rock of the sun."

"Rock of the sun?" Bobby repeated.

"Amber," Sam answered.

"No problem then, all of those are easy to get in a hospital." Dean sighed, then smiled. "Is this a Catholic hospital?"

"What?" the older hunter asked, frowning at him.

Sam followed Dean's look, his brother was staring at the crucifix over the wall. "They might have frankincense for use in the chapel."

"They'd have wine and bread for Mass too," Dean said. "Three down."

"Salt in the deli two floors up. The creatures are working from bottom to top, so we might get there. I'll find out where the chapel is too," Bobby said, getting up. "I'll be back." It was becoming his refrain. Every time he left, it was just "I'll be back", nothing more.

Sam rolled over to Dean's bed. "How do you feel?" He put his hand on his brother's arm, aware of the tension caused by pain and the faint heat of fever.

"I'm awesome."

"Yeah, Dean..."

"Is this about the dying guy on the ICU bed?" Dean said, meeting his eyes. "It was true. It might still be, you have to admit this isn't the most awesome medical care we've ever gotten at a hospital."

"True." Sam leaned against the bed.

"Where are we going to find amber and myrrh?"

"I don't know," Sam said, trying not to panic. The tension in Dean's arm reflected far more pain than even his voice was letting on. "We will."

"Do you hear that?"

"What?" Sam cocked his head, listening. It was quiet. His heart started racing. There was no sound at all.

"The 'they' will rise from the earth? Or come up through the building?"

"Yeah."

The lights went out.

The silence was shattered by a roar that rattled the bedside tray so hard several items crashed to the floor.

"They're here."

_To Be Continued_


	33. The Brown Stuff With Bugs In It

_A/N Christmas Day Nine_

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

**The Brown Stuff With Bugs In It**

The roaring in the background had become just one of the many noises filling the ICU ward. It had become so much a part of it all that even most of the wounded were just ignoring it. Dean watched one set of doors from his position in the corner. After a lot of arguing, Sam had agreed to let him up. Dean suspected Joshua had helped win the fight, after checking the wounds on Dean's chest and neck, the doctor had said that, all things considered, Dean might as well be mobile.

He was watching his brother as Sam checked the rooms with windows. They were pretty sure the colly birds were all in the building, but they were taking no chances. Bobby had found the frankincense, wine and bread in the room next to the chapel. They had it sitting on the nurses' station along with a small pile of gold. The survivors had all contributed what they had, then on one of their search-and-rescue runs Bobby and his team took what they could from the bodies they found. They had found a package of kosher salt in the deli, non-iodized, which Sam was sure would be better.

Dean shifted in the wheelchair. _Why are these things so uncomfortable?_ He wasn't really sure what he could do if something came through the door, it was more that he couldn't stand to just be trapped in the bed knowing what was happening. Something thumped against the door behind him, the sound followed by a low growl. The DNMRs were back. They appeared about every half hour or so, testing their defenses.

He snorted. Their defenses, if you could call them that, were pretty pathetic. Evergreen boughs and mistletoe from the staff lounge and several old protective circles Sam had found online. They weren't even sure about the designs, his brother had just taken a wild guess based on a few ancient sites and hoped he was right. So far, they seemed to be working a little. The DNMRs and something else with a deeper growl and a funny scent would slam into the door, but as long as the lock held they didn't try any harder to get in. And Dean was pretty sure they actually could force those locks open without any effort, so maybe, just maybe, something was working.

"Nothing out there," Sam said, coming up beside him.

"Nothing?"

"Except for the swirling black vortex?"

"Yeah, those never count."

"I didn't think so." Sam smiled. "Anything here?"

"No," Dean answered. "I had a thought."

"Really? Did it hurt?"

"Very funny, Sammy." Dean grinned. "It did a little."

"Should I get you some pain medication? Thinking can be incredibly painful."

"Well, it was close, but I managed. I nearly asked Joshua for a morphine pump, in case I had another."

"We still can."

"Anyway, I was thinking about the amber."

"Yeah?"

"What about the gift shop? Sometimes they have jewelry."

"Huh." Sam looked thoughtful. "I was thinking about amber jewelry, just hadn't thought of that."

"See, you think too much."

"Probably." His brother glanced around. "Heather?"

"Hey, guys," she said, walking over. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. "We were wondering about the gift shop, does it have any jewelry?"

She frowned. "I thought you had a lot of gold. There's not much there. Only a few nice pieces. Most of it is silver and clunky stones. There's a few pretty ones, some moonstone and malachite. Then there's a bunch of the kind, what's it called? You know with the bugs in it."

"The bugs?" Sam asked, his eyebrows climbing.

"Yeah, it's brown? Like in the movie."

"Amber?"

"That's it!" she said, snapping her fingers.

"Maybe I should try thinking more often," Dean said, grinning at his brother.

"Maybe you should. I'll call Joshua about that pump."

"What pump?" Heather asked.

"Never mind, where's the gift shop?"

"Down on the main floor, right by the elevators in the lobby," she answered. She was about to say more, but someone called for her.

"Downstairs," Sam said.

"In the main lobby." Dean sighed. "Great."

The door on the other side of the ward slammed open, someone jumped forward to close it. "I need a little help here!" Joshua shouted, coming in, half carrying someone.

"Oh god," Sam said. "Oh no."

"Bobby, no," Dean whispered.

_To Be Continued_


	34. Time to Go Shopping

_A/N Christmas Day Ten (Its getting close! OMG)_

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

**Time to Go Shopping**

Sam was resisting the urge to pace. It was the way he dealt with stress, but pacing on his leg just didn't seem like a good idea. He glanced over at Dean, his brother was dozing for the moment. They'd been waiting for word on Bobby for what felt like hours and after a dose of pain meds, Dean had zoned out, but only after Sam had promised to wake him as soon as they heard anything. To fill the time, he'd been researching. Now that they knew there could be amber in the gift shop there was just one missing item for their offering, and it was proving elusive. They couldn't just leave to find it, although myrrh was almost as hard to find in the modern world as it had been in ancient times.

The door opened and he looked up as Joshua came in the room. Sam poked Dean. "Bobby?" Sam asked.

"He's holding his own."

"What does that mean?" Dean snapped.

"It means he's not dead yet."

"Not dead yet is better than dead."

"Usually," Joshua agreed.

"And the rest of the team?" Sam asked, scowling at both of them.

"All down for the count, except Will. He didn't make it back at all and Jim told me that there wasn't even enough left of the guy to give a burial to the bits."

"Who's left?" Dean sat up, frowning in pain as he did. Sam noticed the tightness at the corner of his brother's mouth. _Do you think you are fooling me, Dean?_

"Me mostly. I guess you two, although I'm not sure you count."

"We count," Dean said.

"I count, you're injured," Sam corrected.

"We either both count or both don't count."

"I'm not sure either of you count," Joshua interrupted. "Do you know what's out there?"

"Yep," they said together.

"I need to check on the other patients. You can see him, he's unconscious."

"Sam?"

"Yeah." He didn't even need his brother to finish the question, he knew what it was, and there was only one answer. Someone had to go for the amber, and the list of possibilities had just shrunk to the two of them.

"So, what's the plan?"

"Go to the gift shop?"

Dean frowned. "That sounds more like one of my plans than one of your plans."

"Sometimes straightforward is best?" Sam said with a shrug.

"I was hoping for something a little cunning or maybe stealthy."

"I thought you were the stealthy one."

"No, I'm agile, you're stealthy."

"Right." Sam stared at the door. "We wheel your bed into the elevator, then when the doors open in the lobby I aim the bed at them and they'll be so surprised they drop dead from shock and we just head to the gift shop?"

"I like that plan."

"Pretty good for us."

"You're planning on walking aren't you?" Dean asked seriously.

"Yeah."

"It's too slow. If we're both in chairs we can move faster." His brother held up his hand. "Think about it Sam. We can roll way faster than we can run right now, hell, probably faster than when we are healthy."

"I can run faster, you're short."

"You're a freak."

"You should have some meds before we go, Dean," Sam said with a frown.

"Pain meds? No way, they'll slow me down."

"Fainting will to."

"I won't faint."

"Dean..."

"Fine, you have some."

"I don't need them," Sam said defensively.

"You so do, you'll faint."

"I don't faint."

"Yes you do," Dean replied.

Sam huffed and with a sigh helped Dean into a wheelchair and then looked at the other. His brother was right. He was faster right now in the chair than running, he didn't even know if his leg would hold him if he tried to run. "Do we check on Bobby before we go?" Sam said as they rolled into the central area.

"And risk him waking up and ordering us not to go? Are you nuts?" Dean shook his head. "No we go, we'll tell him when we get back. Joshua? Can you get me the axe Bobby was using?"

"Where are you going?" the doctor asked, carrying the axe over.

"We need amber, someone has to go get it," Sam said.

"I'm going with you."

"You're the only doctor left standing," Dean pointed out.

"Yeah, but Mac and Shannon are both mostly able to get around. They can handle it until we get back."

"Joshua..."

"And if we don't then it doesn't really matter, does it?" the doctor said, taking off his lab coat. He picked up one of the other axes and smiled. "I'll push Dean, can you handle your chair, Sam?"

"Yeah."

"The elevators should be on this floor, so the doors shouldn't take too long to open." Joshua headed towards the doors. "So far we've been lucky and nothing has gotten in, although we've heard them."

"Fun," Dean muttered.

"Get ready to close the doors," Sam said as they got close, two of the less injured survivors positioned themselves to slam the doors shut behind them.

They went out into the hallway, heading straight towards the elevators. It wasn't far—no more than twenty feet. The doors banged closed, sounding like an explosion and Joshua hurried ahead to poke at the button to get the elevator to open up. Sam heard a sound and turned, a lone DNMR was tearing around the corner from one of the other wards further down the floor. "Joshua!"

"I can't make the doors open faster."

"Faster would actually be better," Dean said, rolling beside him.

It was getting close, its head down, growling, blood dripping from its jaws.

"Got it!" Joshua grabbed Dean's chair and yanked him into the car, and punched the door close button, Sam was right behind them, the doors were inches apart when the DNMR reached them. It stuck a leg in, the door's safety feature reacted and they started to open. Sam swung his axe, cutting the creature's limb off and the doors closed. He leaned back in his chair breathing heavily. "You ready for this?" he asked his brother.

"Ready? To face down a bunch of pagan-god-spawned creatures in a closed area with nothing but a fire axe while stuck in a wheelchair?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh hell yeah."

_To Be Continued_


	35. Helium, It's Not Just For Balloons

_A/N: Christmas Day Eleven (Can you believe it?)_

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

**Helium, It's Not Just For Balloons**

Dean would never have thought of himself as claustrophobic, but those minutes in the elevators were almost enough to have him trying to crawl out of his skin. Every small sound and he was sure something was trying to get in, and he was pretty sure the walls on Sam's side were moving towards him. He took a breath and focused on the throbbing pain in his side. Sometimes pain could be a friend, it allowed him to focus on something other than freaking out. He wondered if his brother knew how many times he'd...

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" He looked over, Sam was squinching at him. _Busted. _

"You okay?"

"Yep. You?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not, if anyone cares," Joshua said.

"Oh, sorry." Dean smiled at him.

"We're not either, if it makes you feel better." Sam offered.

"Yeah, that doesn't really help," the doctor said. "What is going to be out there? You can tell me, I'll believe anything now. If you told me it would be killer skating mice with pie, I'd believe it."

"No mice," Dean said. "Sam?"

"I'm not sure. The DNMRs, a Colly Bird, other creatures that serve the gods." Sam stared at the ceiling.

"See that, Joshua?"

"What?" The doctor looked up, then back at Dean.

"Sam, that look. That's the 'we are in deep shit' look. Out with it, Sammy."

"Some of the gods might be there," his brother said, looking from ceiling to wall, then to the axe in his hands.

"Oh. Gods." Joshua looked like he was going to barf.

"Yeah."

"Which ones?" the doctor asked.

Dean smirked. "All of them."

"Oh god... gods..." Joshua whispered.

"Any idea about the myrrh?" Dean asked his brother. _Damn this elevator is slow._

"No."

"If we don't find it, they eat us, right?"

"Pretty much."

"Wait. What?" Joshua said, focusing on the two of them. "I thought we were after amber."

"We are. That is almost all of the nine-fold offering, all that's left after that is myrrh," Sam answered.

"Myrrh, hmm." The doctor looked thoughtful.

The elevator dinged and the doors started to open. Dean's stomach clenched, pulling the wound in his side. He looked over at Sam and his brother nodded. It was as close to a suicide run as they had come in a long time. Dean swallowed and gripped the axe. The doors slid open.

_Shit. _

The demonic naked mole rats were swarming around the edges of the far side of the lobby. Something huge, four-legged and shaggy paced along the windows. Outside in the fountain, Dean could see things moving in the water. A fluttering noise made him look up, and he could see dark winged creatures, hundreds of them, wheeling around the light fixtures. Towards the front of the lobby, by three large Christmas trees, several almost human things were standing with a huge wolf-like creature. There was a huge bloody pool in front of them, a smooth-skinned animal of some kind was rolling in the blood with what could only be described as a blissful growl.

"I'm an idiot," Joshua whispered. He did something with his badge and the doors stayed open. "Duh."

The doctor shrugged, then pushed Dean out into the lobby. They were trying to move as silently as possible. The gift shop was right next door and if they got lucky, they might be able to get in and out without anything noticing them. _Yeah, right. _They slipped along the wall and into the gift shop. Sam headed immediately to the glass case by the cash register. He grabbed several items and looked up at Dean with a smile.

"What we need?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, it's the real thing, even has little authentication cards with it," Sam replied.

"Good." Dean looked around the shop, searching for anything else they might need. He doubted they could fend off many DNMRs with Beanie Babies or Mylar balloons. _Huh. _He spotted the tank of helium they used for the balloons and rolled over to it. It was a good sized tank.

"Give me a hand with this, Joshua."

"What do you need that for?" the doctor asked, grabbing the tank.

"I don't know, it just might be handy."

"Did you want me to phone MacGyver while I'm at it?"

"A doctor and a comedian. Great." Dean grinned at him. "Sam, are you ready?"

"Yeah, let's get out of here," Sam said, he was on his way towards the door when a roar rattled the items on the shelf.

"What the hell is that?" Joshua peeked into the lobby and looked back at them his face white. "Oh, we are toast."

Dean gripped the axe and moved towards the door, glancing out. "Sam? What the hell is that?" He really tried to keep his voice calm, but he had no idea if it was, he heard a squeak of pure panic at the massively huge monster that was now sitting in the middle of the lobby.

His brother joined him. "Something really bad?"

"Good guess."

"I thought so."

"See, I would have guessed it was the tooth fairy," Joshua said.

"That was my second guess," Dean said. "We have to get the amber upstairs." The wound in his side was throbbing and he would blame what he was about to do on the pain and fever. He smiled at his brother, grabbed the helium tank and tipped it onto his lap and, before his brother or Joshua could react, launched himself into the lobby. "Get out of here!" he shouted to his brother.

Everything focused on him as he rolled towards the Christmas trees. A group of DNMRs started yipping and growling and some of the small flying things fluttered down from the ceiling to swirl around him. He heard a shriek and out of the corner of his eye saw one of the Colly Birds swoop into the lobby, heading straight for him, its talons extended and hooked beak wet with gore. He could smell blood-wet fur and waited until the first of the DNMRs were close enough that he could see their strange flat ears, then he opened the valve on the helium tank all the way, letting the gas flow out. One of the creatures coughed, backing off immediately and several of the small flying things dropped to the floor. The Colly Bird was not dissuaded and Dean lifted his axe, knowing it wouldn't matter. He felt one claw catch him, and braced himself for the end.

The flash of steel coming down on the creature's leg was followed by the yank of Dean's chair moving, he was spun around and pushed, hard, towards the elevators. The wheelchair was careening almost out of control before Joshua caught up with him and steered him into one of the elevators. Sam rolled in right behind them and the doors closed.

"What?" Dean mumbled, suddenly aware of pain. "The amber!"

"We put it in the other elevator and sent it up. It will be there waiting when we get there," Joshua said, bending over and checking the wound the Colly Bird had made.

"You okay?" Dean asked, looking at Sam, there was blood on his brother's face.

"Yeah, Dean, I'm okay," Sam huffed at him.

"Why?"

"Why did we come back for you? Instead of letting you die?" Joshua snapped.

"Yeah."

"Joshua had an idea about the myrrh."

"About..." Dean blinked, there were two Sams and they were both blurry. "Sammy?"

"Hang on, Dean, we're almost back."

"Sammy?" Dean reached for his brother, Sam took his hand, holding tight.

"Hang on, please."

"Sa..." Everything started to fade, he heard his brother's desperate plea and the ding of the elevator. There was movement, but it all passed like it was a dream. Somewhere a long way away from himself he heard the flurry of activity that indicated something really bad was happening.

His last conscious thought was the bad thing that was happening was him.

_To Be Continued_


	36. A Winchester Use for Modern Art

_A/N: Christmas Day Twelve. _

_A/N II: Sorry this is a day late. I had planned to wrap the story up on Epiphany (Today the Sixth) but I took an unexpected ride in an ambulance so I am a day behind. So, I give you Twelfth Night today and the final chapter tomorrow. _

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

**A Winchester Use for Modern Art**

The entire building was shaking. It had been for the last four hours. Sam ignored it as he paced across the small room. Since it was in ICU there wasn't all that much space for pacing, but there was a handrail that he was using so he could work off a little of the energy that was threatening to make his head explode. He'd tried everything else, and nothing had helped, so he'd finally started pacing. Bobby was doing better, and the older hunter was helping to put together the offerings so that they would be ready when the time came.

Sam stopped and leaned against Dean's bed. His brother was sleeping for the moment, overwhelmed by the poison from the Colly Bird's claw and Joshua's desperate attempts to save him. It hadn't gone well. At one point, Sam hadn't been sure whether it was better to keep fighting or just let Dean go, but Joshua was a never-say-die kind of doctor and had persisted. Dean's heart was beating. He was breathing. His temperature was high enough to cook his brains. Sam sighed and put his hand on Dean's shoulder, needing the contact, needing to know that for the moment at least Dean was still there. He closed his eyes, it would only be a little while and it would be over.

"You look like shit." Dean's voice startled him. Sam opened his eyes and looked down into Dean's glassy ones. "Really like shit."

"You look worse."

"The dead guy gets to look worse, it's in the rule book."

"Dean..."

"Sammy, I know, you know, so let's not fight about it. I'm toast." He half-grinned "I've bought it and all I can think to say is shit?"

"How long have you been waiting to use that quote?" Sam said, trying for a smile.

"Every since I saw that stupid movie again about a year ago."

"Am I going to have to endure other quotes from that one now?"

"Probably not."

"Dean, no."

"Sam, we are not going to fight about this."

"You aren't..."

"I heard you and Joshua talking. Someone has to take the offering and they will probably get eaten, since we're missing part."

"We're not."

"What about the myrrh?"

"Joshua found the myrrh," Sam said. "It's tincture of myrrh, but I think it'll count. Heather and Shannon are weaving evergreen branches into a wreath for the offering bowl and Kyle found a 'precious object' to serve as the offering bowl itself."

"What is it?" Dean asked curiously.

"They have a little gallery two floors up in the executive wing. There were several pieces by Chihuly."

"Who?"

"He's a glass artist. The bowl is worth about twelve thousand and it's blue, symbolizing water, so..."

"So the monsters get to eat expensive art?"

"Yeah."

"Finally a use for modern art I understand." Dean laughed, the chuckle quickly becoming a cough of pain. "You'll just need to get me into the elevator."

"No."

"Sammy, I'm dead. I heard Joshua. You heard Joshua. At least let me do this." Dean was trying to sit up, Sam slid a hand behind his back and helped him. "Thanks."

"There might be an answer, Dean."

"An answer? To Colly Bird claw poison? Compounded with the other wounds?"

"The other wounds were getting better," Sam muttered sulkily.

"I think maybe the sacrifice in the woods needs to be completed, Sam. The doctors cleaned out the infection and now I have to go—off into the halls of Valhalla with the other sacrificed warriors or wherever sacrifices to these gods go." Dean frowned. "Do you know?"

"Know?"

"Where the sacrifices go?"

"They used to mostly go into bogs."

"I mean after death," Dean growled.

"They mostly hung around bogs?" Sam shrugged. "I don't know, Dean, I really don't. No one has been sacrificed and come back to tell about it."

"Is everything ready?" Dean asked, shifting to lean against him.

"Yeah."

"Is it time?"

Sam swallowed and tried to think of an excuse, tried to think of anything to stop Dean from going. His brother was right, someone had to go. Sam had been planning to go himself. There was a ritual that had to be performed in addition to making the offerings. "It's time."

Dean looked at him, that look he gave him when they were kids, the mind-reading look. "Oh no you aren't."

"What?"

"Going. I'm going."

"There is a ritual, Dean."

"Tell me what to say," his brother protested, his voice weak.

"I can't just teach you the ritual, it's in..." Sam stopped.

"Is it a language you know, Sammy?" Dean asked, his eyebrows up.

"No," Sam huffed. "But..."

"No buts, dying guy gets this duty."

"No, Dean, you are not..."

"Yes, I am."

"No."

"Yes."

"No." Sam had a flash of inspiration. He didn't like the first part, but it needed to be done, so, he would run with it. "Okay."

"Ye..." Dean stopped mid-word and frowned at him. "What?"

"Okay, you're right, you should go."

"What are you up to?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You caved, you never cave unless you have some kind of plan so cunning it could have a degree in cunning."

Sam sighed and tried to look hurt. The look wasn't fooling his brother. "Here, let me help you into a wheelchair," he said, putting words into action as he lifted his brother down. He wheeled Dean out into the central area, leaning heavily on the chair, using it as support. "Dean is going to take the offering."

"What?" Bobby shouted.

"Dying man's choice," Dean said.

"It is," Sam said earnestly, meeting the older hunter's angry gaze.

Bobby narrowed his eyes. "Right."

"See? Don't you feel better?" Dean said, his words becoming mumbles.

"Much," Bobby growled.

Sam handed Dean the bowl full of the various things they'd collected and set a piece of paper on top. "Just recite the words as best you can. If you aren't sure how to pronounce something just guess."

"Got it."

Sam pushed Dean out the door and towards the elevators. As the hour for sacrifice had gotten closer the halls had emptied of creatures. Sam pushed the button and the doors on the car closest to the ward opened. He pushed Dean in and held it open for a moment. "Dean, I..."

"Yeah. Take care of the car, okay? Oil changes at three thousand not six, no matter what anyone says."

"Yeah." Sam nodded, feeling tears on his cheek.

"Yeah." Dean reached out and squeezed his hand, Sam returned the pressure and stepped back, letting the doors close.

"Everyone, stay here!" Sam shouted, waiting until he heard the elevator start to move before punching the button again, the doors on the other elevator opened and he got in. He heard Bobby and Joshua's shout of protest, but te doors closed again before either could get there.

As he got closer to the lobby sounds started filtering, none of them sounding particularly welcoming. Sam knew the minute Dean arrived, the sound stopped as if someone had hit a switch. He poked at the button, he knew it didn't make the elevator go any faster, but it made him feel better. Seconds later the doors opened.

_Oh god._

Dean was by the trees in the center of the lobby, the creatures closing in on him. Sam hurried to reach his brother before he was completely surrounded. He got there just as one of the Colly Birds was leaning in to grab his brother. Sam snatched the bowl off Dean's lap and held it out. The motion stopped. Dean began to read the ritual.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw two human-like creatures approaching. Dean must have seen them too, he was reading faster, the ancient language sounding odd. Sam had noted the places where each offering had to be made as the ritual was read and hearing the recitation broken by "now the gold" was weird, but he made the offerings, hoping it would work.

Everything around them was trembling and a bright light was beginning to glow. Sam could hear the ornaments on the trees tinkling like small bells as they rattled on the branches. When Dean said "and now the myrrh" and Sam put it down everything started howling, shrieking or growling. The human-like creatures were screaming in a sonorous song.

The offerings were glowing white, the glass bowl was melting with heat and that's when Sam noticed the warmth in his own chest, starting at his pounding heart. It felt like his blood was beginning to boil. He looked over at Dean and met his brother's terrified gaze. Without thinking, he reached for Dean's shoulder and Dean grabbed his shirt as the agony built. Sam dropped to his knees, hearing his own voice scream in pain, then his brother's joined his.

"The offering has been made!" a voice boomed out.

The agony increased until all Sam knew was pain and that point of contact with his brother. Bright light assaulted his eyes and all he could see were dark shadows against the blaze. Something came forward and reached for Dean.

"No!" Sam protested weakly. He tried to move to block whatever it was from his brother, but he couldn't fight his way there.

Then the something was in front of him. "The offering is complete." A hand touched him and the light increased, the pain, everything.

Then it was gone, and all that was left was the tinkling of the ornaments on the trees.

_To Be Continued_


	37. That Thing Tiny Tim Said

_A/N: Epiphany. And so we reach the end of the journey, thank you all for coming with me. Yes, Virginia, there is a new Chapter of Gifts coming, and a few other things as well. Thank you extra special to Merisha, Abni and TraSan. _

**Snowflakes and Icicles**

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

**That Thing Tiny Tim Said**

The soft sound of bells surrounded Dean as he opened his eyes. He looked up and watched a single black feather flutter down from the ceiling, spinning lazily on the air currents. Swallowing, he tried to remember what had happened. Bits of memory filtered in, mostly pain and noise. There had been lots of noise and that weird sensation of his blood boiling in his body. _Huh, who would have thought the afterlife would look like this? _It really wasn't what he was expecting. There should have been more... More something. Not just three Christmas trees, a few feathers and the strange odor of blood, wet fur and red wine mingled together. _Maybe I'm not dead. _

On the heels of that thought came the realization that the overwhelming pain he'd been in was gone. There was a dull ache in his side where the original wound had been, but the rest of it was gone. The agony of the poison and the throb of infection had completely disappeared. He took an experimental breath, waiting for the pain to return, but it was gone. He blinked at the feather as it caught on a tree branch, more memory returning.

Sam. His brother had been there, he was sure of it. That had definitely not been part of the poison spawned hallucinations and there had been quite a few of those, starting with the creatures filling the ICU ward to the elevator's plummet to the underworld. Colly Bird poison was going on the top of his list of things to avoid at parties. "Sam?" Dean said.

A cough answered him.

"Sammy?" Dean rolled onto his side. Sam was sprawled beside him, his eyes closed. "Sam?"

Another cough.

"If you're coughing you aren't dead," Dean said, relief warring with panic. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, stopping when a wave of dizziness threatened to knock him over. Taking a few slow breaths, he crawled over to his brother. "Sam?"

Sam opened his eyes, his look confused for a moment. "Dean?"

"No, it's Santa."

"I don't think he was here."

"I think I saw him."

Sam frowned. "Dean!" He sat up and paled, looking wildly around the room. "They're gone."

"Yeah."

"They're gone," his brother repeated.

"They are." Dean sat down beside him.

"The bowl's melted," Sam said, sounding a little off.

"It deserved it." Dean leaned against him. "Is it over?"

Sam nodded, leaning back. "Twelfth Night is."

"Are they back next year?"

"I hope not." His brother was staring off into space. "There was a special convergence of events this year. It doesn't happen very often."

"Do you know when it's going to happen again?"

Sam shrugged. "Four or five hundred years?"

"So we'll miss it?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

**X X X**

It had taken the authorities hours to clean up the mess, and even longer to explain the "incident" at the hospital. Dean had been watching the whole thing play out with grim amusement. Joshua had insisted that he and Sam still needed medical care and they were stuck in a room together at a hospital in the neighboring town. Dean had no idea what Joshua or the other survivors had said, but whatever it had been, he and Sam were sharing a hospital room that was nicer than he was used to having. In fact, he had no idea rooms like this existed. The beds were even comfortable.

His wounds were mostly healed. Something had happened during the ritual and both he and Sam had come out of it in better shape than they had gone in. They weren't all the way healed, but Dean was no longer critical and Sam was walking with nothing more than a slight limp. Joshua was just keeping them there to keep an eye on them for one more night.

Bobby was doing better, they'd been in to visit him earlier in the afternoon and the older hunter had been watching TV and complaining about the restricted diet they had him on. He didn't remember much about the attack by the DNMRs that left him wounded, but Dean filled him in on it. When he was done, Bobby had looked at him in shock and said "That sounds more like Winchester stupid, you sure it was me?" They'd all laughed, and shortly after that, Bobby had dozed off so they'd headed back to their room.

Dean was watching the nurses walking up and down the hall. One of them was definitely hotter than the others, and he was waiting to get a good look at her name badge. It wasn't their nurse. They had an enormous guy named Stan who looked more like a linebacker than a nurse. _Of course, just my luck._ He sighed.

"What?" Sam asked.

"How come we got Stan?"

"Our nurse?" Sam laughed. "Maybe there is a red flag on your chart that says unless heavily sedated, give to Stan."

"Very funny."

"Yeah."

The hot nurse in pink scrubs walked by. He really wanted to get to know her. "Where did you get the myrrh?"

"Huh?"

"The myrrh?"

"Joshua found it." Sam got out of bed, grabbed something out of his bag and walked slowly over, dropping into the chair beside the bed.

"Where?"

"In the pharmacy."

"The pharmacy?"

"Yeah, they used to use it in antiseptics and stuff, and the hospital had this display of old pharmaceuticals" Sam handed Dean a small box. "They still had the original contents." Dean looked down, the gray box was labeled "Tincture of Myrrh".

"This is what you used?"

"It's what we had, and it technically met the requirements."

"Those technicalities can be killers." Dean gave the box back to his brother.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better." Dean noticed something on Sam's face. "No, oh no, you did good, Sam, none of that."

"None of what?"

"That Sammy thing you do."

"I nearly killed you getting the wendigo nail out," Sam said miserably.

"I would have been dead if it stayed in." Something occurred to Dean. "How did you stop it?"

"What? The gods?"

"No, the nail."

"Oh!" Sam smiled wanly. "I almost didn't, but I..." He looked a little sick, but went on. "I drew a zia on a cylinder and stuck the scalpel under it at the same time. The nail was trapped and I pulled it out."

"Wow." Dean stared at his brother.

"Wow?"

"That was good thinking." Dean smiled. ""Sometimes I wish I had that scary calm thing of yours."

"Should I call the doc?"

"What?"

"I think you just complimented me."

"Shut up. Why didn't they sacrifice us in the woods?" Dean asked.

"Your wound was infected. The sacrifice can't be blemished."

"Always handy when a wendigo saves your life. I bet it would piss him off if he knew."

"Probably," Sam agreed.

"Do you have any idea what all those things were?"

"I can take a few wild guesses. I'm not sure about the demonic naked mole rats, but the Colly Birds could be the flying creatures Tolkien based the nazgul on."

"Seriously? The nazgul?" Dean frowned. "They didn't have feathers."

"I said based on," Sam huffed. "The shaggy thing might have been an incarnation of a beast of Fenrir."

"Are you just going to go through all the Northern mythology?" Dean grumbled.

"That is pretty much what was there."

"One of them healed us, I felt it, a hand on my head."

"Yeah, me too," Sam said softly.

"We survived though," Dean said, smiling at his brother.

"We did."

Dean opened the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a small package. "I know it's a little late, but..."

"Wait!" Sam got up and went back to his bag and got something out and came back and held the small package out. "Besides, in some cultures, Epiphany is a day to give gifts too."

"Yeah, but this isn't an Epiphany gift." Dean said as Sam sat down, close enough so their shoulders touched.

Dean grinned, Sam grinned back.

"On three, Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean."

"One," Dean said.

"Two," Sam said.

"Merry Christmas," they said together.

_The End_


End file.
